


We'll feel it all tonight

by itsabirditsaplaneitsmediocrefanfics



Category: South Park
Genre: '90s au, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Parents, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Fluff and Angst, Growing Up, Internalized Homophobia, Multi, future and past au fic at the same time, photographer!Craig, popular!Craig, set in the '90s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2019-06-29 12:18:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15729255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsabirditsaplaneitsmediocrefanfics/pseuds/itsabirditsaplaneitsmediocrefanfics
Summary: A story about star-crossed lovers, art, being true to yourself, Smashing Pumpkins, AND smashing pumpkins.Long after their friendship has ended, Craig and Tweek have been roped into working together for the county art fair as punishment for misbehavior. Craig, whose father is insisting he work in the mechanic shop after high school instead of pursuing photography, could not hate the odd, spiritual, openly gay Tweek Tweak more. Right?It turns out there's even more to Tweek than meets the eye, and Craig might have to admit to his family, his girlfriend, and even himself the truth in who he really is inside.The majority of the story is 1997, but includes flashforwards to the future.Much credit goes to XxLevixX for the idea of a '90s AU and all the guidance :)





	1. Someone to hear your prayers

**Author's Note:**

> *has Personal Jesus stuck in their head forever*
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!
> 
> I have a Tumblr - it's mediocrefanfics. I take requests, chat, answer questions, all that fun stuff!

**Present Day**

Their dad sits next to them in the principal's office, the bags under his eyes dark underneath the bright fluorescent lights that hum above them. The office is cold, in temperature and nature, and they wait with bated breath for their father to speak.

He looks at them in the corner of his eyes. “So, before the principal comes back in, ‘fess up. What else is there that I don’t know?”

They shake their heads in unison, in too much shock to really say anything

. The mess with the principal lasts shorter than they thought it would, and before they know it, they’re in their father’s car, both sulkily staring out the windows.

“Why didn’t you talk - about this?” their father asks, quietly. Their stomachs drop - their father’s infamous anger is completely lacking. His words only ring with disappointment. “Is it because you thought I’d be mad at you? I mean, how could you two be this stupid and sneaky?”

Nothing but silence and anxious glances at each other.

“You two know you’re going to have to tell me who gave you the alcohol, you know that, right?” They’ve crossed into dangerous territory with their father now. There’s a bite to his voice that makes their eyes water. “I bet it was one of those fucking McCormick girls,” he groans. Their father turns around to look at them sharply. “You two aren’t having sex with any of them, right?”

The mortified and shocked look on their faces answer the question.

“Good! You’re too young to even be thinking about that stuff. Besides, women like them - people like them - only cause trouble.” Their dad has always been critical of those around him. Still, they both look down guiltily. Their crushes on the three McCormick sisters may not extend pass innocent blushes and stuttered words, but they were indeed their alcohol supply.

They pull into their garage and walk into the house, heavy backpacks slung over their shoulders vicariously.

“Sit down on the couch,” their father orders, standing in front in that commanding way of his, arms crossed. He sighs, rubbing his eyes. “You two know I’m not good at this, but I guess this is all partly my fault.”

They look at each other and then back at him in confusion.

“Listen, I get it, but something must be going on for you two do be doing stuff like that. I mean, if this were some party you were caught at, that’d make sense, but months? Every day? At school? Is that why you’ve hid in your rooms since school started? What’s going on?”

Silence.

He groans in frustration, sitting on the edge of the couch next to them. “I’m a horrible father,” he says softly into his hands, and for a second, they think they’re going to see their stoic dad cry. He pulls his hands away from his face, and his eyes are indeed misty. “Part of this is my fault.” He sits up, swallowing his emotions, his fear, the unsaid words. “I have a confession to make. About who I really was… am. About what happened when I was just a little older than the both of you.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**1997**

Tweek sat slumped over in the provided chair - more of a stool than anything really - with his head in one hand and the other vicariously doodling a tentacled monster on the counter. Depeche Mode played steadily in the background from a round boombox next to him, and it occurred to him doing his math homework might be more worthwhile than vandalizing his own parents’ property.

But the late afternoon sun filtered in hazily through the tall windows, and his coffee had grown cold, so Tweek’s eyelids slipped closed not regretfully.

He sat up attentively as the bell twinkled, failing to hide the irritation on his face. The racks of CDs hid whoever had walked in, but Tweek hoped desperately they were here for music-related purposes and not for coffee.

Usually his parents would have two people here - one manning the coffee shop and one manning the music store - but Mondays were notoriously slow for all the local businesses. And while Tweek loved drinking coffee, he hated making it for other people.

Somewhere in the store a girl giggled a little shrilly, and Tweek rolled his eyes, tapping his fingers on the counter impatiently. Someone else - a guy - answered whatever airy question she asked in a nasally, flat tone Tweek could recognize anywhere.

Sure enough, there he was, looking through the Johnny Cash collection.

Craig Tucker was Tweek’s first ever crush back in the day, and one of his best friends. They spent their early days roughhousing in the streets, throwing rocks at cars, passing notes between each other. Tweek had wanted so bad to hold his hand, to end those little scribbled sentences with hearts, but back then he didn’t know how to define those feelings.

For some reason or another, in the summer between sixth and seventh grade, Craig went off to summer camp and came back _different_. He had already been bristly and sarcastic, caustic with almost every word, but now he was downright mean. And for some reason Tweek became one of his main targets.

Safe to say, he was not the person Tweek wanted to see walk into the store. Not that Tweek didn’t like looking at him - Craig had a look about him he digged a lot. Really tall and broad shouldered with sloping eyes and an angular face, Craig was good-looking. He avoided the excess of fabric in various neon colors most guys in his golden inner circle wore - at that moment he was wearing a black T-shirt and ripped jeans with a South Park Cows baseball hat over his neatly trimmed black hair. If he wasn’t a jerk and didn’t seem so interested in the blonde chick hanging off his arm, Tweek would have easily hit on him a couple of beers in.

He was too busy thinking about the way Craig’s sharp collarbone jutted out a little above his loose neck hole to realize they were both walking up to the counter. Tweek hopped off the stool and cleared his throat. The girl smiled at him friendly enough. Tweek guessed she was pretty cute - she certainly had a peppy, sunshine-y aura about her Tweek didn’t hate. He realized this was kind of a cold observation - Tweek had known Bebe Stevens as long as he had known Craig.

Craig looked down at him, bored and indifferent. Tweek felt his face grow hot as he took the CDs from him. “Find everything you need?” he squeaked, wincing at the way his voice cracked.

Craig only narrowed his eyes as Tweek rung him up, handing him the little plastic bag. He noticed Craig’s fingers were stained black, his nails dirty and rough.

Later that night, when he stared up at his bedroom ceiling, Tweek would try to convince himself it was his belief in sharing positive energy that pushed him to talk to them. Really, he wasn’t sure what exactly came over him. Maybe it was just the boredom, maybe it was the way Craig smelled faintly like cologne and motor oil and man, or maybe Tweek realized he kind of just missed his friends.

“Good luck, um, Friday,” he mumbled, as they turn around and leave.

The look Craig gave made him feel two inches tall. “Thanks,” he said, managing to make that one word feel like the world’s biggest joke.

Bebe laughed loudly as he slung his arm around her and they sauntered out of the shop.

“Assholes,” Tweek hissed under his breath, leaving out from behind the counter to rearrange whatever mess they left the CDs in.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I mean, it’s not, like, he’s a bad guy, he’s just … you know… weird,” Bebe said, flipping her long, blonde ponytail from her shoulders.

Craig grunted in response. Tweek Tweak was weird, but Craig felt like it wasn’t entirely his fault. The elder Tweaks were odd themselves. They didn’t go to church, they didn’t follow the same rhythm this little town lived by, and they were unabashed about their son’s homosexuality.

Craig felt an uncomfortable unrest bubble up from his stomach into his throat. The way the setting sun had lit up his fair features and messy hair - the way their fingers brushed slightly when he handed him the bag - felt so different from what he felt as Bebe slipped her hand in his back pocket.

Craig wasn’t dumb. Craig knew what he was, and he hated it with every ounce of his being. He despised the ways his eyes drifted over his teammate’s bodies in the locker room. He dreaded the feeling of the heavy darkness pressing on him as spent another night staring at the ceiling after dreaming of being pressed against a very different body than his curvy girlfriend’s.

Bebe snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Hell-llo, Craig. Earth to Craig?”

Craig felt a surge of embarrassment and irritation, and maybe even the slightest wave of guilt. “Sorry, zoned out. What were you saying?”

Bebe sighed and once again launched into the day’s major gossip. Craig found himself tuning her out, and before he knew it, they were in front of her house.

“You know,” she said, looping her arms around Craig’s wasit, “my parents aren’t home. If you wanna come upstairs…”

Craig shook his head and kissed her swiftly. She deserved better than this. “I told the guys I’d work out with them,” he said, trying to ignore the crestfallen look on her face, hoping she didn’t follow up on his lie.

She didn’t say anything, but the guilt eventually evaporated as he walked home in the early snow. His feet crunched through the piles of leaves as the streets started to become more crumbled and the yards became more junky. His house wasn’t as bad as any of the others - his mother went out of her way to make it look at least respectable - but as Craig looked up at it, it wasn’t hard for him to imagine why Bebe’s dad wasn’t crazy about them dating.

Well, that and Craig was a little wild.

With a deep sigh, he pushed through the front door, ignoring the how faded the wood had become. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he was greeted by Tricia and Karen sitting cross-legged on the floor, blasting Britney Spears and reading Tiger Beat.

“Turn that shit off,” he said crossly, rolling his eyes.

Tricia only stuck her tongue out at him.

“Craig!” his father barked at him from the kitchen. He sat at the table, newspaper spread wide in front of him. The tall and red-headed Thomas Tucker looked up at Craig pointedly. “Sit down.”

Craig sat across from him, slouchy and bored. “Lemme guess - you need me Saturday.”

Thomas gave him a warning look from over the pages. “Only for a few hours. I thought you _liked_ working at the mechanic shop.”

“I do, but not when it turns into a chore.”

“Really, son, you should be thankful,” his father said sharply, putting the paper down to give him “the look” full force. Somewhere in the background Tricia and Karen cackled like hens and his mother came home from work for the day, the dull thump of her throwing her purse on the couch audible even in the kitchen.”Not many kids already have a job set up for them after school. You’ll be thankful for the mechanic shop when you have a kids one day -”

Craig groaned, getting up from the table. “I told you, dad, I want to go to college.”

“For what? Your little pictures? Don’t kid yourself, Craig.”

Craig’s only response was to flip him off as he escaped to his room.

With the door safely shut behind him, he let out a shuddering breath. It wasn’t that Craig didn’t like working at the mechanic shop his uncle owned - it was that his dad made him, which just gave Craig a sour taste about it. That, and his dad expected him to take over the shop after high school.

Craig shook his head at himself. The money was at least good - Craig’s Superman S-shaped piggy bank sat on his dresser, stuffed full of cash and coins he was saving for his own enlarger. Not that he really had a light-proof room big enough for his own darkroom, but he was tired of sharing the one at school with Butters Stotch.

He mindlessly flipped on his radio, fighting the itch he had to grab one of the cigarettes from his pack on the dresser. Instead Craig laid on his bed, on top of his covers, and closed his eyes. Maybe if he drifted off to sleep for the rest of the evening, he wouldn’t have to think about the disappointed look on Bebe’s face or think about the inevitable screaming match he’d have with with his dad later.

But instead his mind wandered to Tweek Tweak, and the way he bit his bottom lip as he plugged numbers into the cash register. Craig felt something warm stir inside himself.

He sat up, burying his face in his hands, and groaned, hating himself, and for some reason, finding himself hating Tweek.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Damien had been waiting outside the shop for Tweek to close up.

“What are you doing here?” Tweek hissed, missing the keyhole several times before managing to lock the door.

“I thought we could talk,” Damien said quietly, unassuming.

Tweek narrowed his eyes. He dropped his skateboard to the ground, refusing to look back at him. “Well, I don’t want to talk!”

“Tweek, you’re being unreasonable,” Damian said, following him down the sidewalk, keeping up rather impressively.

Tweek put his foot down onto the ground, braking. He spun around, finally meeting Damian’s eyes, which shone a weird reddish hue in the sunset. “I am not,” he said acidicly. “I told you to leave me alone.”

“You’re just worked up. Have you been ill again lately?” His words were under the guise of concern, but Tweek knew that tone too well to be fooled.

“Fuck you,” he said as coldly as he could, voice shaking. “Stay the fuck away from me.”


	2. I want to be someone else or I'll explode

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Chapter two!!
> 
> Do you ever write something and no matter how much you edit and rewrite, you're still not happy with it?
> 
> \--- For the record, I do not condone the "being mean is just another way of flirting ----
> 
> Read on for teens bein' hellions. 
> 
> I have a Tumblr. It's mediocrefanfics. I take requests, answer questions, and like to chat. Be my friend!
> 
> Again, thanks to XxLevixX for helping me hash out everything. ~~

 South Park High had the honor of being the nicest school in the county - an incredibly sad fact since the school was barely over mediocre, and because of that, every North Park and West Park parent petitioned the school boards and cushioned county seats with bribes just so their precious child could be subjugated to the same institutional muck.

On this particular day, Tweek felt extra cross, cursing every out-of-zoner in some xenophobic fervor being pressed against Eric Cartman's back stirred up. 

"Oh, I bet you're loving this, huh, Tweek? You better back the fuck up," Eric said, nastily. 

Tweek growled, poised to shove him, when Kenny turned around with his disarming grin. "Leave him alone, Eric. Like he'd be into your fat ass."

His eyes briefly met Tweek's, winking at him like they were sharing a deep secret. Tweek had no real interest in Kenny besides a friend, but he was handsome in a rugged, earthy way that made Tweek want to tangle his fingers in his shaggy hair. In fact, they had made plans on the bus for after school to meet up in the woods to smoke, and somewhere in Tweek's mind, he had a shimmery fantasy of what it could lead to.

But he brushed it off as quickly as it came - as sweet and charming Kenny was, trouble followed him wherever he went, and Tweek absolutely _despised_ his friends. That and the age old question of whether or not Kenny liked dick, which Tweek was pretty sure he did on the down low, but that's not something he wanted to test out. 

Really, his desire to be friends with Tweek always confused him, but Kenny was a deep soul, and maybe he saw something worth getting to know in the spiritual Tweek Tweak. Or, more likely, it was because none of his other friends smoked weed. 

Either way, his head was in the clouds, daydreaming about getting high with a cute boy, when his elbow precariously brushed Craig's arm.

Suddenly his world turned disorienting and blurry as Craig shoved him with all of his linebacker strength. He yelped as his shoulder collided with lockers painfully, the entire commotion enough to quiet everyone. 

Tweek stood up, clutching his upper arm, all but baring his teeth at those surrounding him. He wanted nothing more to smash Craig's face with his fist, but Craig was already down the hall, hands shoved in his pockets. Bebe and Clyde eagerly talked at him, seemingly oblivious to any casual acts of violence that might've happened, but Token looked back, meeting Tweek's gaze. For a second he thought he might have seen a shade of concern in his eyes, but Tweek only narrowed his. He didn't need his fucking pity. 

Despite his newly acquired injuries, Tweek managed to land in his seat as the bell rang. The teacher - some matronly, heavyset woman whose name always escaped Tweek - handed out obnoxiously bright fliers to the class. 

_**Park County Art Fair** _

_**Join us for one of the most competitive art fairs in Colorado!** _

_**First place wins $2,000 for their school** _

_**Deadline to apply is....** _

Tweek lost interest almost immediately. He loved creating things, from painting to baking, but he'd rot in hell before he'd whore out his talents so the school could make money. 

He was busy smirking to himself at the thought when his teacher's grating voice piped up. 'I hope you'll participate, Mr. Tweak. It'd be a shame for you to waste your talent."

The entire class looked up at him as if on cue. Tweek scoffed. "As if."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Dude, dude, there he is,” Clyde said eagerly, elbowing Craig in the side. Craig looked up from his frozen, state-mandated pizza. So the rumors were true.

Stan Marsh, the melancholy bastard he was, had finally snapped. Craig didn’t know what to make fun of first - the guyliner, the stupid way his black T-shirt was shred in places, or the spiked up hair. He didn't buy into the artificial limelight that came with being on the football team, but Craig thought Stan was completely ignoring the decorum. He was the _quarterback_ , for god's sake.

“Has he lost his mind?” Token said quietly, under his breath.

“Hey, Marsh,” Craig called as he walked by, “I hate to tell you this, but the cafeteria is fresh out of bats!”

Stan only glared at him, making his way over to a table of similarly-dressed assholes. From across the aisle, Kyle shot Stan a dirty look, like he was any less of a poser.

“Du-dude, that was weak,” Jimmy said, smirking from the end of the table.

“No, see, Ozzy Osbourne bit the head -”

“No, I kn-know. It wa-was still lame.”

Craig rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Anyway, I gotta blow off some steam before tomorrow night, and I can’t afford more film right now, so let’s do something tonight.”

“We can go set shit on fire in the dumpyard again,” Clyde offered. “That usually helps.”

Token groaned. “No, we can’t. _Someone_ almost got us caught the last time, so they electrified the fence. Remember?”

“I wanna smash something,” Craig said nonchalantly. He’d been tense as a wire since the night before when he popped a boner at watching David Hasselhoff on Baywatch. The pent up anger within him had stewed long enough it had begun to seep out of his edges. Maybe somewhere he felt bad for pushing Tweek Tweak into the lockers so hard earlier that day, but it had also felt _so good_ , like he had transferred some of his stress instantly into another space outside of his body.

His friends seemed nonplussed, used to his casual crankiness. “Let’s smash pumpkins,” Clyde suggested with a shrug.

Token looked at him offended and scoffed. “That’s mean.”

“Ye-yeah, guys. Th-that’s people’s per-per-personal property.”

Craig gave Jimmy and Token a glare full of annoyance and unamusement. “It’s not like we’re hurting anyone. It’s just fucking pumpkins.”

“Well, I’ll have no part in it,” Token said, nose practically in the air.

“Co-count me out,” Jimmy added.

“I bet McCormick would come.” Clyde snapped his fingers, glancing over the cafeteria at Kenny.

Craig only shrugged. He didn’t hate Kenny so much more than he didn’t understand him. “Whatever. Be at my house at midnight?”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kenny passed the joint to Tweek, who was almost too enraptured by a rabbit eating grass a foot away to notice. He made a clicking noise with his tongue, and the rabbit stopped in mid-motion. “That’s right, girl. Come on, we won’t hurt you,” he said quietly, leaning over his crossed legs.

She scampered off, and Tweek sighed.

“Damian won’t leave me alone,” he said suddenly, face reddening at his sudden openness. Kenny was his friend, but not close enough to comfortably divulge problems. 

He remembered the joint between his fingers and took a hit, the almost-spent paper burning his fingertips.

“Like he’s pissed or he’s trying to get you back?” Kenny asked lazily, stretching his arms above his head, flicking the roach into the grass.

“Both,” Tweek answered quietly. “But it’s super creepy. Like, he’ll be outside waiting for me to get off work and shit.”

“I mean… do you feel like you’re in danger?” His voice had a note of concern that touched Tweek.

Tweek leaned back to lie in the grass, looking at Kenny upside down. The setting sun lit up his hair like a halo. Gutsy - and a little fuzzy - from the high, Tweek reached his hand out to him. Kenny took it, intertwining their fingers. The gesture conveyed a certain sweetness, and while it made Tweek’s heart thump extra hard, he didn’t feel any particular urge to push their physical contact further.

He realized he had never answered the question. “Kinda,” he admitted.

“You should tell someone,” Kenny said with a squeeze of his hand. “Your parents or something.”

Tweek laughed flatly. “Yeah, sure, Richard will be a big fucking help. As long as I’m there to work, they don’t give a fuck.”

Kenny sighed, moving to hover over Tweek’s face. “Just be careful. Here, take this.” He pressed something thin and paper-y in Tweek’s hand, and he realized it was another joint. “I’m going to be into some trouble tonight, and I need to be riding clean.”

Tweek closed his hand around it, sitting up and putting it in the front pocket of his flannel. “Thanks,” he said, smiling hazily up at Kenny. For a second, he maybe had fooled himself into thinking Kenny was blushing. “What kind of trouble?”

Kenny cleared his throat theatrically. “You know, just letting off some steam before the game tomorrow with Clyde and Craig.”

Tweek rolled his eyes. “Fuck Craig Tucker.”

Kenny smirked. “You wish.” Tweek shoved him. He shimmied his shoulder out of his flannel and pulled down his T-shirt, exposing the quickening bruise on his upper arm.

Kenny made a noise through his teeth. “Yeah, I saw him do that. Dude needs to learn to flirt better.”

“You seriously can not think Craig was flirting with me,” Tweek said, ignoring his own voice rising two octaves higher.

Kenny shrugged, getting up off the ground without using his hands. “Stranger things have happened. Anyway, I got to go. Karen’s probably getting hungry by now.”

Tweek waved at him sleepily, leaning back to lie down again. “Have fun with that.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Craig stumbled through the grass, grabbing Clyde’s shoulder for balance. Dark thoughts flitted through his mind. What would happen if Clyde ever found out his secret? Would he over-analyze every innocent touch? Would he even speak to him again?

Craig shook it off, focusing instead on how sticky his lips were with the soda he mixed in his whisky. Clyde and Kenny chattered between each other about football plays until Craig shushed them boozily, the sound almost just as loud as their whispering. "You're just gonna be sitting on the bench anyway."

"That's not fair! Coach said I'm getting better," Clyde whined as Craig nudged him in good nature.

Kenny tilted his head towards a dark porch. Lined up underneath a window were jack-o-lanterns, some dumb generic faces carved into them with triangle eyes and toothy grins. “Wanna go next, Tucker?”

Craig smoothly slung his bat over his shoulder. His finesse made him feel thrillingly dangerous - even though the way he almost tripped on a clod of grass made him suspect he looked a lot less cool than he thought. With a mighty swing, he cracked the pumpkin with a dull thud. He relished in how easily it split, spilling the insides and seeds over the grass. Craig could feel some of his anger release - the tight clench it had around his guts loosening just a little.

As he approached the other boys, Kenny grinned at him, in a knowing way that made Craig uncomfortable. “Feel any better?”

Craig didn’t answer.

They made their way up the street, massacring pumpkins as they went, being dirty, rotten teenagers. The boys shifted through the street lamps, only rambunctious specters in the dark.

“Isn’t this where Stan Marsh lives?” Clyde whispered as they came upon a modest but not too shabby house.

“Come on, guys,” Kenny said in an outtake of breath. “Stan is my friend. Let’s skip this one.”

Craig gave him a pointed look, as if taking it as a challenge. He took a swig from his flask he had tucked away in his pocket and sauntered up to the porch dizzily. He lifted his bat high over his head, almost tumbling backwards in the process, cracking the pumpkin underneath him full force.

What he didn’t count on, though, was the pumpkin being plastic. The pop it made as it broke open echoed through the silent neighborhood. Stan’s damn dog, who Craig thought was long dead, barked sharply from the backyard, and lights flipped on inside the house.

“Fuck,” Kenny hissed from the darkness. “Let’s haul ass!”

Craig's heart pounded in his ears as he looked back at the Marshs' house and saw Stan close his curtains angrily. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Tweek woke from his shifting, unsettling dreams that evaporated from his conscious as soon as his eyes opened, he noticed two things: for one, he had fallen asleep in his clothes, and second, the sun sparkled brightly from between his window curtains - _suspiciously_. 

With a certain sense of dread, he reached over and grabbed his alarm clock from the bedside table. A blank, black panel stared back at him, and he popped open the battery compartment even though he very well knew he had forgotten to replace the batteries. Tweek threw it at the wall with a clattering bang and swung his feet out of the bed. 

He did a half ass job of brushing his teeth and hoped his oblivious classmates wouldn't notice he was wearing the same clothes as the day before. The cat piss-smell of good weed still stuck to his flannel, but he doused himself in the Calvin Klein bullshit his mother bought him.

Tweek busted out the front door, board and backpack in tow, only to slip on smashed up pumpkin. "Blowing of steam, my ass," he muttered, doing his best to wipe off the sticky orange guts.  

While he was pretty quick on his board, he got to the stop just as the bus pulled out. Tweek's stomach dropped as he faced the reality of his next best options. He could either go to the cafe and ask one of his parents to take him to school - which would gain him some long-winded, pointless lecture, or he could ride his skateboard to school and still be an hour late.

It was an easy decision. 

He hadn't even made it five minutes into his perilous journey when the heavy clouds above him started to spit cold, sharp drops. Tweek stopped, briefly considering going home and giving up on the day, when a clunky, old car pulled up next to him. The window rolled down and his English teacher leaned across the seat.

"Need a ride? I'm runnin' a little late myself!" 

Tweek's face flushed with the memory of his attitude towards her the day before but nodded with a solemn thanks. 

Forced into stiff conversation, Tweek dutifully answered her questions: _How did you feel about Great Expectations? What's been your favorite unit so far?_ And by far the worst: _What're you doing after graduation?_ (To which Tweek answered with a nervous shrug.)

He caught his sigh of relief before it escaped as the pulled up to the front of the school. "Here, I'll let you out front!" his teacher chirped, stopping the car. 

Tweek reached towards his backpack, struggling to grab it, when his hands finally closed around the handle strap. Slinging it over his back, he prepared himself for the most empathetic thank you he could muster when he noticed his teacher's eyes wide and set on something in the passenger seat. Her stare moved up to him, where it shifted to utter sternness. 

Tweek looked down in slow motion, a creeping feeling he knew exactly what she had seen. 

There it was - Kenny's joint, right in the seat where it had fallen out of Tweek's front pocket. 

He flashed her the sweetest, most innocent smile he could. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If it wasn’t bad enough Tweek had to wait in the first place, he had to sit between Kenny and Craig in uncomfortable plastic chairs. They could hear the principal ripping Clyde a new one in his office, Clyde’s occasional sniffling audible even through the door.

Tweek truly did feel bad for him - Clyde’s dad had a lot on his plate since his wife died, and Tweek could only imagine the immense amount of shame Clyde felt.

“I can’t believe your fucking friend snitched on us,” Craig said through gritted teeth, looking over Tweek at Kenny.

Kenny shrugged. “Hey, I can’t believe he ratted me out, too.” He turned his attention to Tweek, who sat stiff as board with his hands in his lap, consciously trying to not make eye contact with Craig next to him. “Why’re you here, Tweakers?”

He solemnly met his eyes. “The joint you gave me fell out of my pocket in a teacher’s car.”

Craig's long, monotone laugh - a sound Tweek frustratingly recognized as nostalgic - pierced the heavy air around them. “Sucks for you.”

Tweek was about to tell him something of his he could suck when the principal swung open the door. Clyde sulked out, eyes red and puffy.

“Mr. Tucker, Mr. Tweak, may I please see you in my office?”

“Wait, why the both of us?” Craig asked, brow furrowed, seemingly offended that the principal dare say Tweek’s name in the same breath as his.

The principal didn’t give an answer - only a deadly look.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Tweek breathed as they two boys stood up to meet their fate. He would later tell himself he imagined it, but as they filed their way into the office, he thought he saw Craig give him a side glance that hinted at something like camaraderie. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Talk Show Host", Radiohead


	3. But I'm a million different people from one day to the next

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens like gravy. Ya'll, I tried, but in the end, I had to switch it to explicit.
> 
> I have a Tumblr! It's mediocrefanfics. I'm chatty, friendly, and i really love discussing all sorts of things. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Again, thanks to XxLevixX for all the suggestions and ideas and help. We do make a great team :3
> 
> Thanks for reading!

_Craig’s bony shoulders pressed against Tweek’s as he shimmied closer to look out the doorway._

_At first they didn’t bother to talk - the beginning of the storm's rain came down on the shed’s tin roof too hard for them to have any semblance of a casual conversation._

_They didn’t need to talk, though._

_Tweek didn’t know why Craig was there, hiding from his parents - earlier he had been complaining about being forced to go to summer camp, so he only assumed that was why he found Craig hiding in the park maintenance shed with a suspiciously runny nose and puffy eyes. Tweek had been a hiccuping, snotty mess himself - he had dropped too many cups of coffee on the floor at work._

_Lightening cracked against the humidity like the flash on a camera. Tweek started counting under his breath until the thunder rolled through._

_He noticed Craig staring at him, those cool green eyes of his starting to clear. “What are you counting?” Tweek read on his lips._

_He took Craig’s hand, splaying the fingers out with his own. Lightening flashed again, and Tweek bent down one of Craig’s fingers for every second before the thunder. One, two, three, four, five…._

_Slashing his finger through the air and mouthing ‘divide by five’, he held up only his pointer finger. “One mile away. The worst of the storm is only a mile away.”_

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Tweek held his arm up, tracing the cloud trails with his fingertips. Up, down, around, across - oranges bled into pinks dissolved into purples.

“Like, isn’t this illegal? They can’t force you to do this stupid contest,” Henrietta said, over her stiff copy of Harry Potter. Whenever Tweek needed to bitch about something, Henrietta always pulled through - getting righteously indignant as if it had happened to her.

“What’s definitely illegal is me getting caught with weed,” Tweek said, running his hands through the soft grass of his backyard. “It’s unfair but I’d rather have this than a court date.”

“Henri, read my cards,” Butters whined, lying at the opposite angle of Tweek.

Henrietta sighed, closing her book. “Butters, no matter what it reads, it doesn’t matter if you don’t actually do something about it.”

“Seriously, Butters, Kenny’s cool. Just ask him to hang out or something.” As much as Butters’s pining annoyed Tweek, it was a welcome distraction from his own problems. He picked at his chipped black nail polish in an effort to bob his way through the waves of anxiety that had come rolling in since the day before.

“Soo, I still don’t get it. Why are they forcing Craig Tucker of all people into it, too?” She soothingly ran her fingers through Tweek’s hair, and he wiggled himself towards her.

“Oh, Craig?” Butters piped up, rolling to lie on his stomach and propping himself up on his elbows. “He’s super amazing at photography! Really blows me out of the water.” His eyes shifted downwards. “Not the best guy to share the photo lab with, though,” he mumbled.

Tweek sighed. Craig all but stormed out after the principal told them their ultimatum. It wasn’t until the next day that Craig sullenly cornered him at the bus stop and muttered something about meeting up later that week.

“At least he’s kind of dreamy,” Butters giggled.

Tweek sat up, turning to glare at him. “I will kill you, Butters Stotch.” Tweek didn’t want to entertain the thought - it was just all a silly fantasy. He saw how Craig looked at Bebe and how he looked at  _Tweek_. He’d have to be crazy to think Craig would ever even want to be friends with him.

Henrietta gasped, making both boys jump. “Guys - what if this turns into a love story?”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

There was something calming about mechanics for Craig. Everything fit exactly where it should. everything had a reasonable, explainable solution.

_Cause it's a bittersweet symphony this life._

_Trying to make ends meet, trying to find some money then you die._

_I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down_

“Turn that shit off,” his father barked from under the car. Craig sighed, making a mental note to check the battery, before reaching over and switching the radio off. His dad left his comfy office job a couple of years before when the pay was just not enough to cut it, and since then he had only got more irritable.

That certain day was different, though - that day his father was _volatile_. And Craig thought he already knew why.

“So we need to have a talk, son,” his dad said, voice on edge.

Craig groaned. “I’m guessing Tricia told you?” The news that Craig and Tweek were entering the combined media category together in the art festival had spread like wildfire, even to the middle school.

“No, it was Randy. Said his son caught you smashing pumpkins.”

“God damn it,” Craig mumbled. He couldn’t decide what he wanted to do more - slash Stan’s tires or run off with all of his clothes when he was in the locker room shower. Or he could just beat the shit out of him. “So you do know about the art fair or not?”

“I know. _That_ was from your mother, who ran into Mrs. Tweak at work,” his father said with a grunt, rolling himself from underneath.

“I don’t really have a choice, dad. It’s either this or OSS, and that’d look really bad on my - “ Craig cut himself off. “It’d just be really bad, okay?”

Thomas only shook his head, wiping his hands off on a dirty rag, a pointless endeavor. “You know I don’t like it. Just don’t get caught up in all that fruity shit. Especially with that… boy.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Tweek sat in the “coffee part” of the store, a little off shoot of a room with a barista counter. Its dark green walls and dark wooden furniture seemed too much of a carbon copy of a popular coffee chain, but it was nonetheless cozy.

He had only flipped the sign to “closed”, leaving it unlocked, hoping Craig would put two and two together and let himself in.

He felt a little sick, sipping his straight black coffee despite the fact it was doing nothing to settle his stomach. Taking deep breaths, he closed his eyes and imagined himself in his happy place. The last thing he needed right now was a break down.

The tingle of the bell interrupted his efforts to slow his heartbeat. _God, he hated that fucking bell._

Craig slinked in, dressed in gray joggers and a white T-shirt. He threw himself in the chair opposite of Tweek, giving him a look that was full of grating irritation, his green-grey eyes stormy underneath his thick, dark eyelashes.

 “Listen, I don’t like you, and you don’t like me. But I can’t afford to have this bullshit on my record, so let’s fucking get it over with,” Craig said, an angry edge to his voice that made Tweek shift in his seat.

Tweek sighed. “They didn’t say we had to win.” He reached down and pulled out a pen and his sketchbook from his backpack, tossing it on the table with what he hoped seemed like cool indifference. “So with your photography… it’d have to be our focal point. What is it that you take photos of mostly?”

Craig crossed his arms, and for a second Tweek thought he might belligerently refuse to actually help. But he only cleared his throat, bringing his nasty nails up to his mouth to chew, much to Tweek’s chagrin. “Nature, mostly,” he said flatly. “Bugs.”

 _There’s a start_. “Okay, so bugs…” Tweek sat up and gasped, the metaphorical light bulb above his head flipping on brightly.

“What?” Craig asked, arching an eyebrow. Tweek opened his mouth to explain to his idea when the bell twinkled again. For one heart pounding second, he thought it may have been Damien, but a shrill ‘Craaaaaig!’ extinguished that fear.

“I’m back here, babe,” Craig said in a much lighter tone over his shoulder, getting up from his chair. There was a slight sag in his shoulders, like his body was curling in with frustration, and Tweek felt a weird little twinge in his heart at the thought Craig was annoyed that he had to spend time with him instead of Bebe.

Bebe appeared in the doorway, She was wearing one of those faux fur coats Tweek had seen on the cover of Vogue. “Come on, let’s go,” she said, grabbing his hand and giving Tweek an awkward half wave.

Craig shrugged, following her out.

Tweek was close behind. “Seriously?! We just started.”

Craig surprisingly stopped despite Bebe’s insistent pulling. The only light in the closed up music store was the janky floor lamp in the corner, and it cast an odd shadow across Craig’s face. He sighed. “I’m gonna take some photos by Stark’s Pond tomorrow before practice. If you’re gonna be all on my ass about this, then you can come,” he mumbled, turning to leave before Tweek could respond and letting a bitter, cold gust of wind in.

Tweek stood there for a second, staring at the closed door.

“Well, it could’ve gone worse.”

Tweek screamed, backing into a CD rack and causing it to tumble to the ground. Damien sat on the counter, legs crossed.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked viciously, hackles raised. “How’d you get in here?”

Damien ignored his question, only shrugging. “He’s quite handsome, isn’t he? Too bad he hates you.”

Tweek growled. “I know he hates me. You don’t have to tell me.” He stood up straight, resolutely, pointing at the door. “Get out of the fucking store.”

Damien was silent before hopping off the counter, approaching Tweek.”I swear to god, if you touch me, Damien -”

“Relax.” His face was close to Tweek’s, his prominent eyebrows knit tightly. “Why don’t we stop playing this game? You think this childhood love of yours is going to suddenly like dick or something?” He said this cooly, quietly, sending a chill straight to Tweek’s bones.

Damien took Tweek’s hand, his sharp fingernails scratching against his wrist. Something hot and angry surged within Tweek, and he knee’d Damien in the stomach hard enough to get him to back up. “Get the fuck out before I call the cops!”

Damien threw up both of his hands in a mock defensive gesture. “Fine,” he said, leaving, with a look on his face Tweek couldn’t tell was a smirk or a scowl.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Craig wasn’t sure why he invited Tweek along - he didn’t absolutely need to be there for him to take photos, and Craig certainly didn’t want him there. Nonetheless, the golden hour approached, and Stark’s Pond glittered orange as Craig bent down to take a photo of a grasshopper.

Tweek sat on a nearby bench, sketching something, his legs crossed underneath himself. His bright blue Sublime T-shirt clashed stunningly with his blonde hair, beaded bracelets around his thin wrist swaying with his strokes. He looked up with those giant hazel eyes of his, and Craig quickly turned back to his photo subject. He internally admonished himself, the nervous, frustrated emotional bile finding its way back into his throat.

Craig stood up, about to tell Tweek he had to get to practice in hopes it would quell the gnawing inside of him, but he grew still. Tweek’s hand was held out in front of him, a Monarch perched on top, the vivid orange wings brushing against his pale skin. The way his hand perfectly curved and the way the butterfly perched so delicately on it made Craig kneel, zooming in to take a photo.

When he stood up, his eyes met Tweek’s startled ones, and the butterfly flitted off. “Anyway, this was a waste of time. I’m gonna be late to practice,” he said, fitting his camera back into its bag like the moment had never happened.

“But don’t you want to talk about our plan?” Tweek asked, a bit of irritation in his voice. His full lips tilted downwards in a frown.

Craig nodded his head towards Tweek’s sketchbook, splayed out in his lap. “You seem to have it figured out,” he said, cooly, throwing his bag over his shoulder.

Tweek groaned, throwing his head back petulantly. “You know, you got in trouble, too, right? I’m not going to do all the work.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Craig said, turning around flippantly. Inside, he wrestled with whether or not it was true apathy or if he didn’t want to argue. It wasn’t like him to be so avoidant, but he felt so drained of energy that he wanted nothing more to be gone from this entire situation.

Something soft whacked him on the back, the sound of fluttering paper falling to the ground. Tweek’s sketchbook was at his feet, the pages spread out in the grass. He glowered up at Tweek. “Did you just throw that at me, bitch?”

Tweek’s face was red, whether from rage or embarrassment, and he stood up, fists balled. “You don’t just get to walk all over people all the time, Craig. You’re not that special.”

In a couple of strides, Craig was only a hair’s width in front of him, eyes narrowed dangerously. “You should feel fucking lucky I even acknowledge your existence.”

Tweek let out a wild yell and Craig saw his fist rise up in the corner of his eye. He caught it in the downswing, holding it in his iron grip. “Fuck you,” Tweek hissed, eyes full of fire and wrath.

Craig knew he should deck him right there, but he couldn’t look away from the burning in Tweek’s eyes. The air between them grew thick. They both remained silent, Tweek’s heavy breathing reminding Craig he had held his own.

Some kids in the distance thrashed through the bushes, chattering happily. Just like that it broke the spell, and Craig realized he still had Tweek's fist. He dropped it and turned around without a word.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Tweek let the hot water run over him. The boombox he had brought in from his room warbled on the bathroom counter.

_I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now._

_But the airwaves are clean and there's nobody singing to me now._

He closed his eyes, fingertips gliding down his slick stomach. Tweek struggled to feel ashamed of himself for growing stiff as a board earlier with Craig, but it was so undeniably hot.

So many complicated emotions strung themselves around Tweek’s being that the only natural conclusion was to jack off until it all released. With no grace, he reached for his dick, twisting his hand roughly around it.

The look Craig had in his eyes… was passionate. And maybe it wasn’t the good kind of passion, but it still thrilled Tweek.

His thoughts wandered to the way Craig gripped his fist in his so tightly and melted into vague fantasies of angry, frustrated gropings. Tweek felt his toes curl as Craig threw his legs over his shoulders in his imagination, fingers digging into his throat.

Whether he whimpered in his mind or in real life he wasn’t sure, but his orgasm came fast and rushed, the heat in his stomach being pulled out in the thick threads of cum that covered his hand.

Washing himself off, he realized his anger was replaced by hollowness, ringing of sadness and want he didn’t care to define. It was a weird emptiness he felt on the cusp of falling into despite the knowledge this was all something Tweek was overcomplicating.

A shave-and-a-haircut rhythm interrupted the unpleasant haze he had drifted into so suddenly. “What?” he asked, maybe a touch more sharply than he meant.

“It’s me, you jackass,” Henrietta called from the other side of the door. “Firkle and his friends saw you guys holding hands at the pond!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Bittersweet Symphony" by The Verve


	4. Because maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know it's such a basic, overdone '90s song, but I can't help it - the lyrics are a classic for a reason. 
> 
> The beginning might be dubcon? Not exactly, but it is a flashback. At the main timeline, Tweek has kicked Damien's ass to the curb.
> 
> Sorry this took a little longer - I've been on vacation!
> 
> Let me know what you think! I have a Tumblr : it's mediocrefanfics. I'm friendly and like to answer questions. 
> 
> (and again, thanks to my friend XxLevixX for all the help and suggestions!!)
> 
> Thanks!!

_“Baby, I was busy.”_

_“Busy with what?” Tweek spun around, facing Damien with his fists clenched. Damien sat cooly on the edge of Tweek’s bed, his eyes glinting in the odd way they had. “I waited for hours!”_

_“You’re overreacting.” Damien’s deadpan voice was tinged with an anger that made Tweek instinctively cross his arms._

_Tweek’s face burnt as he considered whether or not he was in fact blowing things out of proportion. He shook the doubt from his head. “No, I’m not! You-”_

_He wasn’t sure when Damien got up from the bed, but suddenly Tweek’s words were caught in a kiss. Damien spun him around without breaking their contact and pushed Tweek onto the mattress, the springs creaking under their weight._

_There was something so addictive, so mind numbing about the way Damien dug his fingernails into Tweek’s palms as he held his hands above his head and rocked his hips into his._

_“I’m-” Tweek struggled to dodge Damien’s kiss. “I’m not going to forgive you so easily.”_

_“I don’t see you trying to get up,” he said mockingly, biting Tweek’s neck with surprisingly sharp teeth._

_Tweek yelped, gripping Damien’s hair, trying to pull him off. “Fuck, that hurts!”_

_“Good,” Damien hissed, finally letting up on his throat, grinning at the bite marks. He made quick business of Tweek’s jeans, exposing him in a way that made Tweek feel incredibly vulnerable._

_Damien ran his thumb under his dick, gripping it too tightly._

_Tweek squirmed underneath him, trying and failing to stop the moan that seemed to rip through him from his core._

_“Want me to fuck you?” Damien whispered in his ear, starting to stroke him with more rhythm._

_Tweek nodded numbly, wrapping his legs around Damien’s waist. He laughed, deep and rumbling. “Too bad.”_

_Tweek whimpered as he dry humped him, at once satisfying yet not enough. Damien reached down quickly to undo his pants and Tweek felt the soft skin of his dick slide against his, sticky from sweat and precum. He leaned down to kiss him, to consume him so thoroughly that Tweek couldn’t tell where he started and ended._

_Damien came with a quiet grunt, and Tweek felt the space between them grow hot and wet, the sensation enough to make him finish._

_Damien got up roughly, the sudden loss of his body heat making Tweek shiver. “Next time, don’t nag so much,” Damien said, cleaning himself off with one of Tweek’s shirts and pulling his pants up._

_He managed to fluidly dodge the alarm clock Tweek threw at him on his way out, not even sparing him another glance._

_Tweek got up and slammed the door shut behind him, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. He slid to the ground, biting his fist and screaming into it until his voice was gone._

\---------------------------------------------------------

Tweek swung the bathroom door open with gusto, the billowing steam making Henrietta step back. “What?” His eyes narrowed into slits. “We didn’t hold hands. We got in a fight.”

Henrietta shrugged. “Firkle said you guys were holding hands.”

Tweek grabbed her shoulders, his towel around his waist falling to his ankles. Henrietta’s eyes grew wide, but he didn’t let go of his grasp on her. “You don’t understand. If this becomes a rumor, he’ll blame me.”

“Why do you care?”

Tweek let go of her, reaching down nonchalantly and pulling the towel back up around him. He pressed his lips together, asking himself the same question. “For one, he’ll fucking kill me.”

Henrietta rolled her eyes, poking Tweek’s arm with a long, black fingernail. “Don’t even act like you couldn’t whoop his ass back.”

“That’s not the point! Call Firkle and tell him what really happened!” Tweek disappeared back into the bathroom, closing the door. “Use my phone!”

Henrietta groaned.

“I’m being serious, Henri,” Tweek said, the crack in his voice carrying through the door. He gripped the edge of the sink, focusing his eyes on the drain. Counting under his breath, Tweek forced himself to calm before looking up in the mirror. The bags under his eyes had grown darker in the last year, and his wet hair stuck to his head in waves. He frustratingly combed through it with his fingers. His face was too pale, too chubby compared to the rest of his body.

Tweek didn’t usually get these bouts of self-consciousness, but he was aggravated - his emotions on a high wire, causing him to magnify every little insecurity his mind could latch onto.

Eventually he sat on the cold floor of his bathroom, cross legged, and let out a deep sigh - a godless prayer that what Firkle thought he saw wouldn’t manifest into a rumor.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Craig had always been a simple man - someone who did what he pleased when he pleased - his homosexuality being the one exception. Little whims came and went, and usually he listened to them, letting them guide him through the day.

Some would call this hedonistic - and true, it didn’t help his self control in the slightest - but more often than not his desires were innocent.

That particular day he craved the cold of the ice arena, the feeling of gliding over ice. The movement would drive the one thing he did deny himself back deep inside of his heart.

Ever since his fight with Tweek - he really, truly did just want to get along with him - he had been in silent turmoil, his own sassiness and wit dulled. Finally he had caved and cornered Tweek after school, suggesting he come over the next day (when Craig’s parents would be safely at work) to look at the photos he had taken.

Tweek had only nodded, closing his locker and turning his back on him.

But instead of his usual remedy of digging his car keys into his palm or blacking out on whiskey, he decided to channel his energy into something else less destructive. So, with his customary ice skates in hand, he visited the rec center after school, grateful for his one day a week that didn't involve helmets and pads.

He came alone, craving solitude, under the assumption the rec center would be empty on a Tuesday afternoon, especially since the kids in South Park preferred street hockey. As he climbed the stairwell - that weird, clean smell of an ice arena becoming stronger - he frowned. There were clearly people on the rink if the irritating laughter was any indication. He made the quick decision to see who it was first before bailing, entering at the very top of the bleachers.

He silently snuck in just in time to see Tweek hit a puck with such precision it flew past Stan Marsh’s legs into the goal.

Tweek threw back his head and whooped triumphantly, making Craig swallow and his stomach twist at the display of his joy.

Stan skated over to him, so close that for a second Craig thought they might kiss. He considered fleeing the scene, but obstination made him stay put. What did this have to do with him? Besides, he wanted to skate in peace, god damn it, and he’d wait until they left if he had to.

The two didn’t kiss, though, only chatted, close enough for Craig to hear the timbre of their voices but far enough he couldn’t distinguish the words.

The way Tweek smiled at Stan - the quiet little half smile of his - made anger bubble up in Craig. He bitterly wondered why the pair were even hanging out. Now that Stan was alternative, was he trying to find a new crowd to be around?

Stan skated back to the goal and said something goading, and once again Tweek hit the puck right into the net.

Craig couldn’t deny he was impressed with this surprising display of athleticism. He had always seen Tweek as kind of delicate. Maybe it was because he was gay or because he didn’t strictly adhere to the same hyper masculinity Craig did, but Craig realized with a sudden rush of self awareness that there was more to Tweek than he thought.

Which, he later admitted to himself, he should’ve known. Tweek had climbed many a tree and beat Craig at most of their sporting endeavors growing up.

Watching the two play around, he almost missed the fact he wasn’t the only one watching. Somewhat far from him sat that weird Damien kid, who quite frankly gave Craig the heebie jeebies. There was something predatory and unsavory in his eyes that made the hair on the back of Craig’s neck stand up.

He followed his gaze to Tweek, and suddenly he wanted to make his presence known, to warn Tweek that he was being spied on by someone else. But Tweek’s eyes met his before he could, and he was taken aback by the wideness, the nervousness in them.

It occurred to Craig he was the one appearing to be creepy, especially since it seemed like Damien had disappeared. Face growing uncharacteristically red, he busted back through the doors and left, forgetting about skating altogether.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Tweek didn’t know what to make out of any of this. The day had led to an early snow - perhaps an omen - and the bullshit layer on the ground more muddy slush than anything. He watched his steps carefully on the way to Craig’s house - through much less nicer streets than his own.

He mind stuck on the look on Craig’s face at the skating rink. His eyebrows furrowed, a serious look in his face like he was so irritated at the sight of Tweek, he couldn’t stand to be there any longer.

Seriously, did the guy think he owned the place? He was just blowing off some steam with Stan, who had admitted to him and Kenny on the bus life had gotten a little lonely for him. Kyle had always been a fair weather friend, and Tweek felt empathetic enough to invite Stan to do something to get his mind off of everything.

He wondered if Craig would even open the door as he knocked three times raptly. He hopped from one foot to another, chasing off his nerves and the cold.

To his surprise and a little dread, Craig eventually answered, letting him in with silent purpose. Tweek didn't take it personally - or at least he told himself he didn't. It was all means to an end. They would get something together, present at the art fair, and pay off their disciplinary debts - no more, no less.

While he remembered the Tucker household fairly well, he waited to follow Craig up the stairs. 

His room was exactly how he imagined it would’ve progressed into Craig’s teenage years. There were a couple of posters adorning the seafoam green walls - Smashing Pumpkins, Radiohead, and the one of Einstein sticking his tongue out - and a Denver Broncos flag. Styrofoam planets hung from his ceiling above a Star Trek poster, and on his bedside table sat a Gundam figurine.

Tweek found himself grinning a little bit at the nerdiness of it all, but he stopped at a certain photo of Craig and the baseball team all lined up in a wooden frame. Tucked into the corner was a Billy Bean baseball card.

“Huh,” he said before he could catch himself.

“What?” Craig asked shortly, digging around on his desk in an effort to organize his photos.

“Just didn’t think you’d be a Billy Bean fan,” Tweek said with a shrug.

Craig turned to him, finally looking him in the face for the first time he had been there. His eyes narrowed. “... Why?”

“Well, I just didn’t think you’d be cool with the… you know… _gay_ thing.” Tweek tiptoed around the subject, regretting having said anything at all.

“What gay thing?” Craig limply held a photo in his hand of what looked like to be a caterpillar of some sorts.

“Billy Bean is … gay?” It was a statement, but it came out more like a question.

Craig’s mouth opened a little stupidly before he closed it quickly. “But he’s…”

“An athlete? Manly? _What_?” Tweek raised an arched eyebrow at him.

Craig cleared his throat, busying himself with shuffling papers around, his tan face reddening a little at the cheeks. The image of Tweek making the goal from the day before played again in his head. “Anyway, let’s get to it. Here’s some bugs I found in the woods the other day.”

Tweek stepped up next to him to look at the spread, and he could feel Craig stiffen at his approach. He self-consciously shuffled to the side for more space between them.

There were probably more than a dozen black and white photos (“I’m not dropping the money on color film for this stupid shit.”) of little creatures, some antennaed and some winged.

“So do you know what these bugs are?”

Craig pointed to his bookcase, where upon closer examination Tweek saw rows on science books, including bug encyclopedias. “Some, but the others I’ve been looking up.”

Tweek stood up from where he was crouching to look at the spine of a Rocky Mountain insects guide. He smiled at Craig, who looked away, annoyed. “You’re a dork.”

Craig gritted his jaw. “Excuse me?”

“No, it’s cool, dude. Makes you more… interesting. I forgot you were this quirky.” There was genuine sweetness in Tweek’s voice, and he watched Craig’s stance soften.

“Anyway, what do you want plan we do with these?” Craig asked, diverting the conversation again.

“Well, I thought since I’m pretty good at sketching, we could do a sort of… psychedelic guide on Colorado insects?”

“... Psychedelic… guide to insects?”

“Listen, they said it had to be educational - at least it won’t be lame.”

“Yeah, sounds like it won’t be lame at all,” Craig said, not all that meanly, with an exaggerated eye roll. “Who’s the fucking dork now?”

Without thinking, Tweek elbowed him gently, grinning up at him. It was something so nostalgic in the way Craig smiled back, Tweek suddenly felt a pressure behind his eyes and his throat tighten.

_What happened to us? Our friendship? Our youth?_

It was Tweek’s turn to distract. “I should take some of the photos with me,” he said quickly, looking down.

“Yeah, good idea.” Craig handed him some of the clearer ones, and Tweek walked towards the door. “Need me to show you out?”

Tweek shrugged for what felt like the millionth time that day. “No, I think I’m fine.”

“Hey,” Craig said suddenly, a look in his eyes more honest and intense than Tweek had seen in a long time. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole. I.. It isn’t because you’re gay, if that’s what you thought. It wasn’t really because of you at all, really.”

Tweek felt his eyes water, and he blinked desperately. “I-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Craig interrupted him. “I just want you to know I’m sorry.”

Tweek only nodded and left, feeling his hot tears against the cold air on his way home.

\---------------------------------------------------------

_Craig’s long legs dangled off the pier, his toes brushing against the sun-warmed water of the lake._

_Thomas laid next to him, smelling like sunscreen and sweat. “Are you-” he spasmed, closing his eyes tightly, “fuck, sure it’s okay we’re missing chapel?”_

_Craig shrugged. The sky was so blue, the breeze so comforting he couldn’t imagine sitting in that dark cabin was anymore of a religious experience than this. He turned his head to look in Thomas’s eyes, and he twitched nervously, swearing under his breath._

_Craig wondered if it was because he was as nervous as he was. Which Craig didn’t truly understand, but he accepted it anyway. Thomas made him feel happy and comfortable, but at the same time made his stomach do a weird flip and made him feel giddy like he just got off of a rollercoaster._

_There was really only one other person who made him feel this way back home, and as much as he loved being around Thomas, he counted down the days he could see Tweek again._

_First he was only aware the tip of their noses were touching, then Thomas’s breath as he swore, and then his chapped lips against Craig’s._

_It was chaste and sweet, and when they pulled away, the both of them smiled at each other, Thomas’s hand clenching sporadically around Craig’s._

_But good things never lasted._

_The sun’s warmth and light was suddenly blocked as one of the counselors stood above them, his long shadow stretching over the pier._

_Craig got kicked out of camp that day, and as he sat at the back of the car, his mother crying into a tissue and his father lecturing - not exactly coldly - on why he should be kissing girls, not boys, for the first time in Craig’s life, he knew the feeling of shame._

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tweek shuffled into the work the Saturday following, slumped with a hangover and not at all feeling up to training the new hire. Especially when he entered the too hot store and saw who stood behind the counter, covered in a white apron.

“Oh, hey, Tweek,” Nicole Daniels said pleasantly, with the same little awkward half wave people always seemed to give him. Tweek eyed her warily. Her curly hair was tied up in rather cute buns and her red lipstick complimented her dark skin, and overall, she was dressed a lot nicer for work than Tweek, but she was _Token Black_ ’s girlfriend. And that meant she probably made fun of him behind his back.

“Um, hello,” he said flatly, trying to take on a business-like tone as much as possible.

The next hours were a little less torturous than he expected as Nicole turned out to be friendly and a quick learner.

Tweek found himself loosening up some, eventually cracking some sarcastic jokes here and there, making her laugh.

“You know, it’ll be nice to have some company,” Tweek said, grinning at her. “It gets boring in here.”

Nicole smiled sweetly back at him, organizing the Bowie records with ease - which she had earlier announced herself a huge fan, only making Tweek like her a hundred times more. “Yeah, totally, I’m lucky to have landed this job.”

There was a heavy silence between them, laden with something Tweek could not begin to identify.

Nicole turned to him, with her big brown eyes downcast but otherwise kind. “By the way… um, Token and I are really happy for you and Craig. Even if he isn’t ready to admit it.”

Tweek’s hand stopped in mid air, still holding Elton John’s greatest hits. “What?”

“You know… Ike told Kyle who told the rest of us that you know… Firkle and some of the middle schoolers saw you guys holding hands.”

Tweek felt his stomach drop to his feet - the bit of hope that he and Craig would ever be friends again extinguished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Wonderwall" by Oasis


	5. But you don't really care for music, do you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right - I picked THAT song. Which I knew Leonard Cohen wrote and performed that song way before the '90s, but Jeff Buckley brought it back and etc. etc. There's an Atlantic article about ti somewhere. 
> 
> There's a very good chance this story might end up a couple of more chapters. 
> 
> Thanks again to XxLevixX for proofing and listening to me fret and giving me ideas. 
> 
> I ahve a Tumblr! It's mediocrefanfics. Ask me questions or chat or whatever. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!

The moment Tweek crossed into the school’s threshold it became obvious everyone had heard the rumor.

Being the alleged lover of South Park’s most eligible bachelor gained him hushed silence and rude stares with every step he took. Not that he could blame them - he was sure in their minds he was the proverbial forbidden apple - but it didn’t stop his face from feeling hot as he tried to find some reprieve.

Stan’s group - now back to including a little less spiky-haired Stan - crowded around Kyle’s locker, becoming silent and still at his approach. Wendy - her sleek, black hair pushed back with a thick headband, looking like an extra from Clueless - stood on her tiptoes and whispered something in her boyfriend’s ear.

He narrowed his eyes as threateningly as he could manage, his gaze lingering on Stan and Kenny. What a bunch of turncoats.

Tweek managed to stay out of the general vicinity of Craig that day, spending his time hiding between the library stacks and bottom floor bathrooms. He wore what Kenny joking called his “nug rug”, the hood pulled up over his head, as if it would make him any more invisible.

Eventually the last bell rang, and he emerged from his self-exile to grab some books from his locker. An offensively neon orange poster hung up on the door for the Halloween dance, mocking him, and he ripped it off, revealing a smaller, white piece of paper folded and shoved in the grates.

In small, blocky lettering, particular and neat:

**_Meet me at the baseball field after school._ **

**_DO NOT let anyone see you._ **

**_Your ass is mine._ **

Tweek had the uncomfortable feeling the last line wasn’t meant to be flirty.

He suddenly felt the urge to vomit, his guts wrenching at this awful, awkward, embarrassing situation. And, like ice cold water being dumped on him, he came to the sudden realization it wasn’t the ass beating he was worried about.

He leaned his forehead against the locker door and closed his eyes in pointless effort to find some footing to settle his nerves. But zen was out of reach as he cursed all of his friends who had the ridiculous fantasy he and Craig could even simply be friends again.

In the end, Tweek wasn’t dumb - he knew there’d be no escaping this. Sighing and slinging his bag over his shoulder, he made the resolution to face it like a man. Craig was not a nice guy, but he was one of the more logical people in this hellhole, so Tweek held onto the hope he could talk some sense into him.

He took his sweet time making his way to the baseball field, cutting through the treeline that framed the back property of the school. Angry, swollen clouds were culminating above him, and Tweek desperately wished for lightning to strike him down at that moment - spare him from the black eye and broken heart very soon in his future.

When he approached the backside of the dugout - gathering his courage and turning the corner - he saw Craig sitting on the bench, staring at the ground. He was wearing his gym shorts and the same faded black T-shirt, his Converse sloppily tied.

Tweek’s approach awoke him from his daze and he looked up, his eyes - almost the same color of the eerie, green-tinged clouds above them - hardened.

Tweek gulped. “I - I didn’t start the rumor. It was that kid Firkle. He saw us fighting in the park and -”

“You realize I spent half of my day comforting my crying girlfriend, trying to convince her I wasn’t some queer?” Craig’s voice was almost quiet, and he stood up. Tweek never really noticed to how much of an extent Craig was bigger than him.

“But it wasn’t my fault -”

Craig shoved him hard against the concrete siding, Tweek’s head knocking hollowly against it. “I don’t even know if I can go home tonight!” He grasped the front of Tweek’s shirt, pinning him there. “How am I supposed to explain this to my dad?”

Tweek managed to reach up and strike him across the face, causing him to lose his grip. “I said it wasn’t my fault!” His artist’s eye ridiculously picked up on how pretty the crimson of the blood was on Craig’s tan skin, but that only made Tweek more angry. “We used to be friends! I don’t deserve this!”

“Shut up!” He wrapped his hands around Tweek’s neck, thrusting him against the wall.

Tweek gasped and choked, panic rising up from his very core. His nails clawed at Craig’s grasp. “What are you going to do?” he managed to rasp. “Beat me up? Kill me? Is that why you wanted no one around, Craig?” He bit his own lip in the process of speaking, the metallic taste accompanying the spots of light starting to obscure his vision. “All I ever wanted is to be your friend again.”

To Tweek’s amazement, Craig let go, and he immediately crumpled to his knees, spit and blood dripping onto the dirt floor as he tried to regain his composure. Wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve, he stood up again. Part of Tweek told himself to run - no pride, no anger was worth potentially getting killed. A burning, hideous part of him wanted to return the favor, and bring Craig to his knees in pain until he apologized.

The steadying rain on the tin roof stirred up some murky memory in his head, but it barely registered as he prepared to face Craig again, heart teetering on his next move.

But all of his thoughts, his anger, his pain dulled when he realized Craig’s shoulders were shaking.

He didn’t have time to think of how stupid he probably looked gaping at him, watching the tears roll down his face at almost the same tempo as the rain. Craig reached up and gently brushed Tweek’s cheek, who flinched at the touch. “I’m really sorry,” he whispered - or maybe never even said - because Tweek had to read it on his lips as the thunder rolled above them.

Tweek only shook his head - at what he didn’t even know, but suddenly he felt weightless and numb. His hand gently pulling Tweek’s face in, Craig kissed him, his slowness and warmth a sudden contrast against the fight before.

Tweek’s body went weak against his as he reached up to wrap his arms around Craig’s shoulders, trying to close any possible space between them, refusing to let anything keep them apart from this moment.

The storm - and their lives - became suddenly so insignificant as the two reclaimed what they had lost all those years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hallelujah" by Jeff Buckley, written by Leonard Cohen


	6. We could slip away. Wouldn't that be better?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... me with nothing to say, and you in your autumn sweater.
> 
> This ended up being longer than I thought it would be (which XxLevixX told me it all along). 
> 
> I rewrote some of the previous chapter because I didn't edit it well, and it was just a general mess. Sorry about that!
> 
> I have a Tumblr - plz talk to me! It's mediocrefanfics.

Tweek hesitantly broke away for breath, keeping his hands clutched on Craig’s shirt. He backed him up until he sat on the bench flush against the wall, never breaking eye contact.

Craig lifted Tweek’s shirt up, and lithely the blonde stretched his arms up so he could slip it off. The gusts of wind sprayed cold rain on his bare back, but it was quickly dismissed as they collided in a kiss again.

Craig’s rough lips tasted like nicotine, sugary-sweet synthetic grape, and blood, and truthfully, it was gross, but it only added to Tweek’s fervor, the want of searing the taste in his memory forever more intense than anything.

He could feel Craig’s erection through his thin gym shorts, and Tweek playfully rolled his hips, satisfied with the gasp it earned. Craig’s grasp on his waist tightened - almost painfully in a way that made Tweek wince and moan at the same time.

Tweek let out a yell when Craig lifted him up, like he weighed nothing at all, and laid him down on the bench. He balanced himself as Craig got on top of him, hands on both sides of his head. Craig dipped down and kissed him briefly again before pulling away, the intensity in his eyes making Tweek blush. “So,” he said lowly, the wind almost carrying it away, “what now?”

Tweek leaned up for another kiss, bringing his head down with him, fingers tangled in his hair. They made their way down his shirt, trailing across Craig’s toned waist. He grabbed at his the band of his shorts, experimentally ghosting his fingertips against his hip bones. The noise Craig made in the back of his throat encouraged Tweek further, and he slipped his hand underneath. He stilled, eyes meeting Craig’s imploringly. Craig grinned at him, the sight completely disarming. His lips met Tweek’s again feverishly, his tongue running across his bottom lip, and Tweek took this as a green light.

He slipped past his boxers and wrapped his hand around Craig’s dick gently. Despite Craig’s increasingly desperate movements, it wasn't enough for Tweek - he wanted more. Feeling a little giddy, he broke away from their making out to press his lips against Craig’s ear, nipping at his earlobe. “What do you want?” Tweek whispered, almost a sigh.

He felt Craig’s dick - pressed against his thigh - twitch. “You,” Craig said just as softly, kissing up and down Tweek’s jaw.

With a growl he wrapped his arms around Craig, sitting up, their all-consuming kiss almost enough to drive Tweek over the edge.

But only almost.

He swung his legs to the other side of the bench, standing up, pulling Craig by the hands along with him. Craig gripped Tweek’s hips and backed him up into the adjacent wall. He tipped his chin up and kept kissing him, the rough concrete scratching Tweek’s skin.

He dropped to his knees, looking up at Craig, smiling devilishly. Craig’s eyelids fluttered as Tweek pulled his shorts down in the front and his dick out. “Oh,” he said quietly to himself, and Craig grinned.

“Impressive, right?”

Tweek only winked even though he was pretty sure it came out more like a twitch. He ran his tongue softly, barely around the head, breath catching as the gasp Craig made above him. He traced his tongue all the way down the shaft and back up, suddenly engulfing it in his mouth.

Craig threw his head back and moaned, running his fingers through Tweek’s hair. Tweek fought back the urge to choke - it had been awhile and his girth wasn’t helping, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to take this chance to blow Craig Tucker’s mind.

He bobbed his head like a champ rhythmically with Craig’s thrusts, his tongue brushing around where his head met his shaft. The rain was letting up enough for him to hear Craig mutter a strained “fuck yes” and Tweek laughed deep in his throat, the hum of it making Craig swear again. It didn’t take long before Craig’s thrusting became erratic, and he gripped Tweek’s hair almost painfully, arching his back farther.

Tweek’s rhythm became hard to keep, and the spit coating Craig’s dick ran down his chin. Tweek made sure look up at him through his eyelashes until Craig let out a guttural groan, and Tweek felt the pulsating of his dick.

It was more cum than he expected, but he pointedly swallowed it, watching as Craig never took his eyes off the bob of his throat.

For a second they were silent, catching their breaths in the humid air, the scent of the storm evaporating around them as it turned into a shower, a bit of sun coming in through the clouds. Tweek was well aware of his own erection, at this point almost painful. Craig seemed to notice the way he uncomfortably shifted his legs, and he held out a hand to help him up, a gesture that left Tweek unexpectedly blushing.

When he settled on his feet, Craig wrapped his arms around his, burying his face in Tweek’s hair. He sighed, and Tweek marveled at how wonderful he felt against him. The tilt of his shoulders, the broadness of his chest, the warmth of his skin - there was no doubt left in Tweek’s mind that somewhere he had always loved him all along.

He felt Craig’s hands wander beneath his waist, undoing his jeans clumsily. He laughed breathlessly. “I have no idea what I’m doing, for the record,” he said.

“You’ve never jacked off before?” Tweek asked, smiling, brushing Craig’s damp hair out of his face.

Craig shrugged as to say ‘good point’, and Tweek almost melted when started to palm at his erection, quickly becoming weak in the knees.

Craig held him to the wall tighter, propping him up, and his calloused hand started to twist around him, rubbing his thumb over the slit. Tweek pressed his mouth against his shoulder, letting out a moan, digging his fingers into Craig’s shoulder blades.

Craig continued to jack him off, eventually pressing in between his balls and his dick, making Tweek buck his hips. “You’re doing a great job,” he said, laughing at his own encouragement.

Craig answered by kissing him, and Tweek knew he tasted like cum, but when Craig only kissed him harder, he felt his own body tense unexpectedly, spasming.

He sighed Craig’s name as he felt himself release, his orgasm mind blowingly intense for just a hand job. When he finally came back down to earth, Craig was still holding him with one arm and holding out his other hand, covered in jizz, in a way Tweek found oddly endearing.

Grinning, he loosened himself from Craig’s hold, and found his backpack where it had been discarded in the corner what seemed like a millennium ago. He dug around until he found an extra T-shirt he kept in it and tossed it to him. “It’s old, so I don’t care if, you know …”

Craig didn’t say anything, using it to clean up.

Tweek pressed his lips together and approached Craig slowly. “S- so, are you gonna freak out on me?”

Craig shook his head. “I…” He hesitantly took Tweek’s hand. “I don’t know where to go from here. What to do. I can’t pretend anymore, but my dad… and Bebe… and everyone else...”

Tweek leaned up to kiss him softly, hoping he wasn’t pushing any boundaries. Craig kissed back, though, so sweetly it only reminded Tweek of how far he had fallen into this rabbit hole.

“You don’t have to tell anyone,” Tweek said, searching Craig’s face. “If you’re not comfortable.”

Briefly it flitted through his mind on how this wasn’t fair to Bebe at all, but he reasoned this really ahd nothing to do with her.

Craig smiled, but it was full of sadness and bitterness. “What will i tell my dad when I get home tonight? Everyone else? They already think we’re together.”

Tweek pulled him close, resting his head on his chest. HIs heart warmed at the way Craig held him tightly. “I have an idea,” he said suddenly. He pulled away to look in Craig’s face. “Do you trust me?”

\----------------------------------------------------

Craig took a deep breath before turning the key into the front door, pushing it open.

Tricia was doing homework on the coffee table, cross-legged on the floor. She looked up at Craig, her eyes widening. “Craig, dad…”

He held up his hand to hush her, touched at her concern. Trish might have worn on his nerves more often than not, but she still was a kick ass little sister.

With a nonchalance he hoped didn't betray the way his heart pounded, he walked into the kitchen, slinging his bag on the counter and opening the fridge door.

He was aware of his father’s stare on his back as Thomas sat in his usual chair at the kitchen table, and grabbing a soda can, he turned around. “What’s up, pops?”

The air was thick enough for Craig to cut with a knife, but his father only stayed silent. Surprisingly, it wasn’t anger Craig saw in his eyes, only confusion and reluctance. “Son, sit down,” he commanded in his usual tone.

Thomas folded his newspaper pointedly in front of him, and Craig caught the sports lede: “Dennis Rodman back from suspension”. His gaze flicked upwards, and for a second, he found himself and his father in a standoff.

Craig sighed, flippantly cracking open the can. “Is this about that stupid ass rumor about me?”

Thomas looked surprised, and then relieved, his entire posture softening.

“Dad, surely you didn’t think I was a queer?” Craig said, raising an eyebrow.

“No, no,” his father sputtered, “Of course not.”

 _Oscar worthy_ , Craig applauded himself.

He shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Believe me, I gave the asshole responsible an ass beating. No one’s going to think I’m gay once they see what I did to him.”

“Well,” Thomas said, clearing his throat, “I hope you weren’t too rough on him. Now go do your homework.” He waved his hand dismissively, which irritated Craig, but he decided not to poke the Tiger.

He grinned at himself, laughing once he was safe in his room. His heart soared, his busted lip a painful but heady reminder of the blond he held in his in his arms only a half hour before. They had kissed a dozen times, clinging to each other before parting ways.

But now the whole charade was up to Tweek at that point, and Craig spent the rest of his night blowing smoke out of a cracked window, not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.

\----------------------------------------------------

“You can not tell anyone, Henri, you got that?” Tweek said earnestly.

“Yeah, yeah, I already pinky promised. Now, would you stop moving?” Henrietta dabbed an eyeshadow brush below his eye socket.

“Do you think people will really buy it?” Tweek asked, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Yeah, I think so. Just don’t let anyone get too close to your face. It helps that your lip is really split. So tell me the whole story again? The good part.”

Tweek giggled like a school girl. “Oh, Henri, he grabbed my chin and then kissed me - he’s the best fucking kisser - and I don’t know - it was just perfect.”

Henrietta smiled, swirling the brush in some green. “So what now?”

Tweek’s face fell ever so slightly, but he perked up and shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Maybe we’ll just stay like this - on the down low - until we leave for college.”

“Crazier things have happened. Okay, now, look.”’ She held up a hand mirror, and Tweek delicately touched the fake bruising she had done around his eye.

“Not bad. Looks pretty real,” he said quietly.

“And your parents are cool with me spending the night?” she asked, putting her makeup back into her caboodle. “Because this will take some time in the morning.”

Tweek nodded. “Totally.”

He sighed, lying back on his shaggy carpeting. He was pretty sure he’d never be able to get Craig’s smile out of his head.

And he had smiled because of _Tweek_ , which only made his stomach do flips until he had to sit up.

Henrietta watched him, eyebrow raised. “Wow, you’re already love sick.”

\--------------------------------------------------

He had only seen Tweek once that day, and he couldn’t help but be impressed by his performance. He acted every bit the loser of a fight accompanied by a realistic-looking black eye.

It didn’t take long before the school stopped talking about the hand holding and started talking about how Craig Tucker whooped Tweek Tweak’s ass for making it all up.

But they way their eyes met in the crowded hallway - those big, blue-green eyes catching his - drove Craig crazy for the rest of the day.

“Craig, seriously, are you even listening?” Bebe asked, slamming her calculator on her desk and swiveling around.

He rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry, babe, I’m just tired.” He felt a rush of guilt. “Tell me again?”

Bebe got up from her chair and shrugged, crawling over on the bed where he laid. “I was asking you if you wanted to go to the party tonight, but I guess it doesn’t really matter,” she said softly, leaning up to kiss him.

Craig wanted to pull away but fought the urge, the sudden acidity he felt with Bebe’s touch shocking enough to make him grunt. Bebe must’ve thought this was encouragement, because she started kissing him with more intensity.

Craig wrapped his hands around her forearms and gently pushed her back.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her thin brows furrowing.

“I’m not feeling well.” Craig knew it was a lame excuse, but he didn’t know what else to say.

Bebe sat back, obviously hurt. “You don’t like me,” she said, voice full of wounded pride. Tears gathered in her kohl-rimmed eyes, and Craig’s heart broke as they threatened to spill.

He shook his head. “No, Bebe, I just…” His words fizzled as he searched to find some happy ground between lie and truth.

“Craig, we’ve been together for six months now, and all you’ve ever done is kissed me and let me blow you - when you were drunk, by the way.” Bebe stood up and busied herself with straightening out her camisole. Then she looked up, and realization dawned in her watery, shiny eyes. “Oh my god, Craig, it is true, isn’t it?”

Craig’s guilt and worry gave way to irritation. “What’s true?”

“You’re gay.” Bebe said the words with such finality Craig could feel it crumbling his world.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said in almost a whisper, too numb to fake anger.

Bebe’s tears were in full throttle, streaks of mascara running down her face. “You’re a fucking liar.”

Craig got off of her bed, pointing a finger at her. “Don’t fucking call me that. You don’t know what I’ve been through.”

“So you admit it’s the truth?”

Craig scowled, crossing his arms. “No, I don’t. Just because I don’t want to fuck you doesn’t mean I’m gay.” Craig didn’t know what had come over him, but he immediately wished he could take it back when Bebe lurched away from him as if the words physically hurt her.

“I don’t believe you,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “You’re in love with Tweek. I saw how you looked at him the other day at the store.”

Craig only stood there for a second, before pushing past her. “I’ll let myself out,” he said, not waiting around to catch her reply.

He made it about a block before he keeled over next to a bush and threw up, the burning of his stomach acid an accurate manifestation of the turmoil inside of him. Forcing himself up, he looked around quickly, hoping no one saw.

Only a couple of houses down was the Tweaks’, and he desperately wanted to run there, extinguishing his doubts and fears by just being in the presence of him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

So he shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking, the wind whistling around him sounding like a taunt.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

“You should totally come tonight!” Nicole said, throwing an arm around Tweek’s shoulder. “I mean, I know you have that shiner, but don’t worry, Token and Clyde will keep Craig away.’

Tweek smiled up at her from his monotonous task of cleaning out the coffee machines. He shrugged, hoping she wouldn’t catch the blush on his face. “Big parties really aren’t my thing. Too much pressure,” he said, flinching at the loud noise one of the pots made dropping into the sink.

“Oh, it’ll be fun! Kenny will be there, too! And Butters.”

He sighed, turning around, leaning on his elbows against the counter. “Okay, but only,” he said, holding up a hand to distract from the stubborn grin threatening to break across his face,” only, if Craig stays away from me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Autumn Sweater" by Yo La Tengo


	7. You know I'm such a fool for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me forever, I feel like, but I got bit by the sad bug, so I was running low on creativity. 
> 
> (Thanks, XxLevixX for all the beta-ing and editing and advice <3 )
> 
> Oh turbulent waters ahead
> 
> Don't worry - there's definitely a light at the end of the tunnel like usual.
> 
> I have a Tumblr - hmu. It's mediocrefanfics.

Craig watched the revelry in the safe confines of a corner in Token's living room, moody from his fight with Bebe and the alcohol. He looked on as his classmates paired up, no doubt in participation for the dance the next week, and he almost blanched at the thought of putting on a suit and playing boyfriend for an entire night.

But the glare Bebe gave him across the room amongst a gaggle of other girls lent him the guilty comfort that he might just get out of the whole thing altogether.

Too busy moping to notice, Jimmy crept up on him, nudging him with his shoulder and making him jump in surprise. “C-come on, Craig. Go h-h- have - come hang out with us .”

“Nah, I think I’m gonna go home,” he said into his seventh - or maybe it was his eighth - beer. 

“Cl-Clyde and Token are playing beer pong in the kitchen,” Jimmy said, with a grin that guilted Craig into acquiescing. He always did have a soft spot for Jimmy.

Craig hadn’t realized how drunk he was until he walked to the kitchen, his body doing that tell tale sway of someone sloshed. He leaned against the doorframe cooly, regretting the decision of joining the crowd in what seemed to be the world's most intense game of beer pong.

Clyde and Token squared off over a gray fold out table and red plastic cups, entirely too into their game if their growingly childish smack-talking was any indication. Cartman, sensing the opportunity to make money, had started taking up bets, no doubt shoving some of the cash into his pockets.

He approached Craig, that stupid, fucking grin he always had irritating the living hell out of him. “Wanna place a bet, fag?”

That one word devastated the roar of the room, and a hush fell over the crowd. Craig felt his face burn as Cartman narrowed his eyes like all of this was a challenge.

Craig clenched his fist, the urge to smash Cartman’s face stronger than the humiliation. But nausea came in waves underneath his hot, angry exterior, and for the second time that day, he felt like he was going to hurl at any second.

So, to avoid any more attention and to make a quick exit, he dumped the rest of the contents of his cup over Cartman’s head, who swore and jumped back.

“I’m leaving this lame shit,” Craig mumbled, throwing his crushed cup at Cartman and turning to leave.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

“I can’t believe you dragged me here,” Pete said, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, what a bunch of scrubs.” Henrietta glared at a group of girls screeching on the couch with great disdain, her heavily-ringed fingers wrapped around a sweaty bottle of Bud Light.

Tweek’s eyes swept the room for Craig, ignoring their complaints in favor for just getting one glimpse of him. So busy in this scouting, he didn’t notice when Kenny had come up beside him. “Uh, Tweek, hello?”

Tweek looked up alertly at his friend, who reeked of cheap beer and weed. He shook his head. “Sorry, I was uh… zoning out.”

Kenny raised his eyebrow knowingly before shooting a glance at Henrietta. Throwing an arm around Tweek, he bent down. “Well, whatever you’re looking for is watching his friends play beer pong in the kitchen,” he whispered, and Tweek could almost hear the grin in his voice.

“How’d you -” Tweek turned to see Kenny was gone, leading Butters by the hand up the stairs. The sight made him happy for his friend who had carried a torch for the tall blond for so long, but it also sprouted a feeling of unrest, of sadness.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he said too quietly for his friends to hear over their bitching.

The uncomfortable feeling of looking from the outside in - that out of body experience Tweek always got when he was anxious - made his journey through the throngs of his drunken classmates seem much more perilous than it was. Nonetheless, he reached the cold, quiet oasis of Token's downstairs bathroom, and he slipped in, reaching to close the door behind him.

But someone grabbed onto the door knob before he could. "Oh, I'm sorry," Tweek apologized half-heartedly, "I'll be quick."

"No need," Damien said, a wicked smile on his face. He slithered in before Tweek could stop him, closing the door himself.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Tweek hissed. He inched away until he was backed up against the sink. 

"You just looked so lost." His voice full of mock concern that turned Tweek's stomach. "I thought you'd like some company."

"In the bathroom?" he screeched, eager to make as much noise as possible. Even though he was still completely aware of the party that raged outside the walls, it all felt a million miles away - like Tweek had been sucked into another world, a black hole.

Damien reached out to brush his face - to bring him back into his orbit until Tweek couldn't escape - but he slapped it away with enough force to hurt. "We're over Damien. I've told you a thousand times I don't want you near me."

"You're only making a fool of yourself. Craig will never love you. Never like you need him to," Damien spat, red shining through his brown eyes like a dark wine. 

Something primal and fearless thrusted Tweek forward, his hands outstretched. They grabbed Damien's shoulders and held him up to the tiled wall, Tweek's breath ragged with the intensity of his anger. "You don't know him. You don't know _me_. I've told you a thousand times to stay away," he said, the pitch in his voice low and dangerous. 

Damien was practically snarling at him, and all of Tweek's senses came rushing back. He let go of Damien  but never broke his eye contact. Giving him one last stabbing look, he busted out of the bathroom, almost toppling into the loitering crowd outside the door.

His mind - always quick to switch to survival mode - immediately mapped the quickest route to the front door. Tweek briefly considered telling his friends he was bailing, but at this point he didn't have the energy to explain the situation. He would tell them in the morning, and like good friends they were, they'd understand.

Craig filled every empty space in Tweek's brain since they had kissed, like a fever dream that Tweek felt himself falling into no matter where he was or what he was doing, so when he ran into Craig him with a sudden groan, it felt almost serendipitous. He looked up at him, searching his eyes for some sort of hint of an inside joke, of secret familiarity.  

All he found, though, was anger lurking underneath the murky green.

"Craig-"

“Watch where you’re going,” Craig hissed, shoving Tweek hard enough to send him over the back of a couch next to them. The girls sitting there screamed and pushed him onto the floor in their scramble to get out of the way.

Tweek laid there for only a second, first in shock and then in anger so harsh it left him cold to the touch. He stood up, wincing at the soreness, and looked Craig straight in the eyes.

He watched them widen, the sudden regret Craig felt so palpable that Tweek had no doubt the other boy instantly felt sorry.

But Tweek didn’t care, this betrayal proving to him the harsh truth he had tried to bury all along - that Craig may like men, but he’d never accept it.

Tweek didn’t give him time to voice the apology he had opened his mouth to say, and instead fled through the front door, vanishing into the stormy night.

\--------------------------------

Craig’s world went dark as he watched Tweek bolt out of the party. He followed after him, his apology still on his tongue, bitter as a pill.

He looked over the porch railing, frantically searching for him but finding nothing but empty blackness. 

Craig had the habit of ignoring his emotions until they hit him full force, and this time, as he realized Tweek had disappeared, they came rushing at him so hard he could do nothing but grip the railing hard enough to hurt. 

Craig started at the feeling of a wide hand on his shoulder, shattering the self-hatred cycle he was at the cusp of tumbling into. He looked up, brushing the tears away frantically.

Token, Jimmy, and Clyde were at his side, their previously jovial faces now slackened in concern. Token sighed pensively as he usually did before parting some wisdom. “Craig, we know you’re gay,” he said, holding up a hand at Craig’s intake of breath,” and we want you to know that you’re still our best friend. But you can’t go around treating people like that, especially someone you love.”

_Love_. Craig felt a soreness in his chest, and he embarrassingly let out a shuddering breath, unable to keep his emotions at bay. “But.. my dad and Bebe…”

Token turned to look pointedly at Clyde, who stared down at his sneakers and shoved his hands in his letterman jacket. “I think Bebe will be okay with everything. You should do what makes you happy, man. But you should definitely let her know you're not interested in her."

"Because honesty is the best policy, right, Clyde?" Token asked, eyes narrowed and lips pressed together in a near imitation of his father. 

Clyde looked away, and for a passing second, Craig was confused by this whole interaction. In the distance, though, thunder rumbled low and deep, and he remembered that somewhere out there was Tweek.

"Yo-you - Don't take life so seriously. You should go aft-after him," Jimmy said, for once rather solemn. 

 “But I don’t even know where to start,” Craig said hollowly, the emotions creating a tempest within him that had drained him of all reaction.

“I might know,” came a lilting voice behind them. Kenny ashed a cigarette over the railing. “There’s a spot in the woods Tweek likes to hang out at when he’s upset.”

“... in this weather?” Craig looked at the outline of the trees in Token’s yard, illuminated by silver moonlight and the warm porch lamps. The leaves shook, their undersides turning upwards to the sky.

“That’s why you should definitely go after him,” Kenny said calmly, patiently. "Try north of Stark's Pond. It isn't far into the woods."

Before Craig realized what he was doing, he was already running through the grass, almost tripping over a hole. “I’ll be back,” he called behind him at his friends, watching from the porch, surrounded by laughter and light and love. It wasn’t until they were almost out of sight that Craig realized he had plunged himself into darkness, the empty night dangerous and ethereal.

\----------------------------------------

Craig doesn’t know he’s crying until he realizes the front of his shirt is damp. His sons sit across from him, their eyes wide, their young brains desperately trying to grasp this hidden side of their parents.

To them, their fathers had just always _been_ \- childhood sweethearts with a bond so close it survived Tweek living in Europe a thousand miles away from Craig, and a motorcycle crash that earned Craig a year of physical therapy.

It was the same love that saw graduations, the long-fought-for adoption of their twins, and crowded art galleries.

He feels an additional pair of eyes on him, and he glances towards the doorway, where Tweek leans, listening in all along. He reaches up and wipes his eyes on his sleeve, and turns, hiding himself against the wall.

“I, uh, think that’s enough for right now. I want you to leave your phones on the table and then head upstairs,” Craig says, the quietness in his voice worrying his sons.

They get up quickly, doing as told, and shuffle to their rooms. Craig waits until he hears their doors shut before getting up.

He clears his throat and turns the corner, where Tweek has slid down onto the floor. He’s staring blankly into the distance, a silent tear or two falling into his lap.

“Hey, baby,” Craig says gently. He sits next to him even though they’re in the dining room, several perfectly good chairs right in front of them.

“When did we get like this?” Tweek starts to sob, burying his face in his hands. “Did we drive our kids to this?”

Craig winces at the question, his heart breaking at the hopelessness in Tweek’s voice. He takes one of Tweek’s hands away from his face and holds it tightly. He doesn’t know what to say, what to tell him. They’d both like to think the twins didn’t hear the fights, the accusations.

When Craig's shoots had started getting longer, farther away a couple of years back, Tweek found himself getting into the pattern of assuming the worst. Now Craig has become apathetic to everything, traversing god knows where with his handsome, young assistant - a fool ambitious enough to sleep his way to the top, leaving Tweek lonely and cold. Tweek's stomach ties itself in knots when Craig's phone buzzes late into the night, like a constant reminder he's no longer enough for him.

But every time Craig tries to explain anything, Tweek gets accusatory, too emotional - melting into tears and yelling and panic attacks. And Craig wants to tell him so bad that maybe he did lead his assistant on - maybe just a little - but they stopped before any sacred vows were broken. He wants to tell him he feels like a failure of a husband and a father, that he knows he's the reason Tweek drinks all the time. But he can't, so he pushes his family farther and farther away until they can't see past his armor anymore.

So then they start to argue every other night when Craig is actually home, voices rising, until he goes to sleep in the guest bedroom, cutting off the fight with what seems like cold indifference, and Tweek pours himself yet another glass of wine.

But at that moment all the two can do is grip their hands in each other’s, eventually enveloping each other in an embrace. Tweek looks up at Craig, and as Craig catches those blue-green eyes, he realizes his whole world has come tumbling around him, but it might not be too late.

He leans in and kisses Tweek, for the first time in a long time passionate and slow, not just a quick, customary peck. They’re still crying and the kiss is snotty and wet and gross, but it releases something inside of them.

“I don’t want to let you go,” Craig whispers when they break apart.

Tweek shakes his head, and Craig marvels at how young and innocent he still looks. There’s faint worry lines and less roundness to his face now, but he’s still so beautiful it makes Craig’s heart ache. “I won’t let you,” he says, laughing a little breathlessly at their melodrama.

They sit there until the sun sets and long shadows cover them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Linger" by the Cranberries


	8. It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for how long it took to update this. I've had a lot going on, good and bad stuff (and I almost died!! I almost pulled a Kenny!!), and I've been feeling insecure with my writing. I usually like to update as frequently as possible, so I really apologize. Thanks for sticking around. I'll try not to take so long in the future. 
> 
> I hope you're still up for following these stupid kids :3
> 
> Okay, so technically that song was written in 1988, but it was released in 1990's, so it counts!!
> 
> (Also, thanks, XxLevixX for beta-ing and keeping me responsible and cheering me on and also helping me with the plot and being a swell friend :^) )

The only sound in the woods besides Craig’s labored breathing was the pitter of freezing rain falling on the treetops. His survival instincts screamed at him to turn back, to hunker down like all the animals around him, but he was on a mission - to find Tweek, and no bad weather or creepy woods in the world could stop him until the other boy was safely in his arms.

 Maybe it was his friends’ support or maybe it was the beer or maybe it was the sheer adrenaline thumping through his veins, but the thing that had haunted him his entire life seemed so simple.

“Tweek!” he yelled as the wind picked up, pelting him with heavy drops of sleet. His surroundings were illuminated briefly by lightning only to plunge into darkness again. Craig resorted to blindly groping as the path in front of him was obscured by confusion and doubt, hands feeling around spiny bushes and tree trunks.

Kenny had said it wasn’t that deep into the woods, but Stark’s Pond was getting farther and farther away behind him, and Craig started to panic, increasingly disoriented. Shapes flitted in and out of the corner of his eyes, and the scent of rotting leaves became too cloying. He slipped, catching his fall with his hands but managing to knock his breath out.

Craig rolled on his back, ignoring the cold rain starting to seep in his clothes, and was met by nothing but frightening emptiness.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” came a voice near him, straining to be heard over the storm. “Are you crazy?” Tweek reached down, hooking his hand in Craig's to hoist him up and almost losing his own balance in the process.

“I came to save you,” Craig said, mind and tongue numb from cold.

“Save me?” he asked sharply. “I was perfectly safe in the shed!”

“You were in the shed?” Despite the bitterness of the cold, Craig felt his face flush in embarrassment. 

Craig followed him back, impressed at the way Tweek bounded across the woods as if it were a clear day and a paved path, while he still stumbled over tree roots. He could see the shape of the park’s shed shining under the glow of the orange lamps like a beacon, the droplets of icy rain catching the fragmented light.

When they finally got inside, Craig collapsed on the dusty floor. His hands stung with the abrasion from falling, and it was only a fraction warmer in the shabby building, but at least it was the driest Craig had been in the last hour. A singular bulb swung above them, moths congregating around it. He crossed his legs, suddenly looking up at Tweek as if to just notice he was there.

Tweek stood at the door, hands on his waist. “So you publicly humiliate me and then make me come save you in the middle of storm? It’s a good thing I heard you calling for me.”

Craig sniffled, his nose runny from the chill. “I just… I wanted to apologize.”

Tweek didn’t respond. He felt two inches tall under the gaze of those big green eyes - or were they blue? Either way, Craig felt naked and raw. “Okay, listen, I don’t do this often, but here we go - i was an idiot. I really like you, but Cartman called me a fag and I just… freaked.”

Still only silence. A moth dropped dead next to Craig. “I’m an asshole, okay? But I…” That word Token said - that word love - hung on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. “I care about you. And I’m attracted to you. And I want to be with you. But all that really fucking scares me, okay?”

There was a heavy tension between the two of them until Tweek sat down next to him with a thud. His eyes trained on Craig, he reached out hesitantly and smoothed some of the wet hair out of Craig’s face. The hardened look on his face didn't fall, though, and his wide mouth pulled into a line. 

Craig relaxed under his touch, even though at that moment it didn't feel especially soothing or reassuring. “Do you forgive me?” Craig whispered.

Tweek grabbed Craig's face, and for one heart-leaping second, he thought that Tweek might finally kiss him again. But he didn't - he only stared at him with fathomless eyes, and in them Craig could see endless affliction. 

“"Y-you can't do this, you know. You can't do this to me," Tweek said, the anger in his voice jarring. "You can't make me hate you one moment and love you the next. It's too fucking confusing. It's - it's like, emotional whiplash or something, man. It isn't fucking fair."

Craig didn't know what to say. He could only stare hopelessly back at him, too paralyzed with shame and regret to form words.

Tweek's eyes focused somewhere past Craig's face, his grip loosening a little bit.. "Come home with me," he demanded, the shake in his voice almost gone now - tucked away in a manner not unfamiliar to Craig. "Maybe I can figure it all out there."

\------------------------------------------------

“So they don’t care?” Craig asked in a hoarse whisper as Tweek closed his door with a soft thud.

Tweek shrugged. “Probably not. Not that they’d ever say anything if they did.”

Craig glanced around his room quickly. It was spacious but filled to the brim with knick knacks and curiosities, many which were covered in paint. Teetering stacks of books slumped against the walls and furniture.

“I didn’t know you liked to read,” Craig said, more to himself than to Tweek.

“There’s probably a lot you don’t know about me.” Tweek slipped his shirt over his head and tossed it carelessly on a lava lamp, not blinking an eye when it started to teeter precariously on the edge of his faux wood desk.

Craig’s throat tightened at the surprisingly broadness of Tweek’s chest, the patch of pale hair. He really was past the point of no return.

The look Tweek gave him was indecipherable as he pushed Craig onto his bed and straddled him. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he said flatly, as if it were an obligation and not out of any real concern.

“Yeah,” Craig breathed. Tweek finally gave him what he wanted for so long - when their lips connected, it was like all the air was sucked out of the room and all that existed to him in that moment was Tweek. He eagerly let him slip his shirt off and shivered at the way Tweek ran his fingertips over his broad torso. His trail followed down past his waistband and brushed his growing bulge with a featherlight touch that might as well have been a full on grab in the way it made Craig gasp.

A blush grew across his face, the surprising display of innocence not lost on Tweek, even in the dark. He arched an eyebrow. “Are you a virgin?” he asked softly, the nervous vibrato very much present despite his attempts to seem like this was something he did every day.

Craig swallowed thickly. “No, not exactly. But this is the first time it’s been with… you know.”

Tweek finally smiled, leaning down to kiss him gently. He tugged impatiently, cutely at the hem of his pants. “Take them off,” he whined in way that made Craig comply almost immediately, getting up so they could both shimmy out of the rest of their clothes.

When the cold air hit him, he realized with sudden self-consciousness that he was entirely naked on the bed, but the thought was whisked away in the way the moonlight made Tweek’s bare skin luminate through the darkness. “You’re beautiful,” he said under his breath before he could catch himself.

It was Tweek’s turn to blush. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he said, getting on top of Craig again.

Craig moaned ever so slightly at their touch - separated by nothing, Craig’s erection pressing against the inside of Tweek’s thigh.

“Fuck, I forgot the lube,” he said, and before Craig could say anything, he lithely stretched across the bed, pulling the drawer of the bedside table open. This bit of flexible display was mesmerizing in itself, Tweek’s legs wrapped around him tightly for balance. He pulled out a small bottle, tossing it on the bed.

The bottle, with the soft plop it made on his tie dye comforter, was a tangible reminder of what was to come, of a pipe dream becoming true in Craig's reality. “We’re gonna have sex,” he said as if the idea had never crossed his mind before.

Tweek looked at him, pressing his lips together. “Is that okay?” 

Craig nodded. “Can I, uh, be the pitcher?”

Tweek snorted at his choice of words, rolling his eyes in a bratty way that Craig was ashamed to admit turned him on a little bit more. “Yeah, I think that’s probably wise for your first time. Just don’t expect to last long.”

“Oh great,” Craig muttered. In this sudden bout of insecurity, something clicked in Craig’s head. He finally had Tweek, right in his reach. And sure, the doubts still swirled there, every bit of his self-hate ever present, but he shook it off in favor of squeezing Tweek’s thighs.

He flipped him over, making Tweek squeal as his back landed on the bed. Faces barely apart, Craig hitched his leg up between his, and watched as Tweek’s pupils dilated. “You have no idea how long I have secretly wanted this.” Tweek’s eyes widened and for a second Craig thought he saw tears pooling in them, but Tweek quickly kissed him again, passionately, without hesitation. In their heat, the electricity between them, Craig realized how different this felt than anything he ever had done with Bebe. Just the way their skin brushed against each other threatened to make him fall apart.

Tweek’s mouth moved to Craig’s neck, and a moan ripped through his throat, too lost in the sensation to catch it. He wanted nothing more than to be balls deep right now, but he had the sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself or hold on for too long. “You should get on top,” he said huskily.

Tweek laughed, a bit dangerously, and gently pushed Craig off of him and on his back. He kissed his throat down to his collarbone, causing goosebumps to rise on Craig’s skin. He slid, back arched, until he reached the sensitive skin between Craig’s thighs, and nipped at his hip bone playfully.

Craig reflexively tangled his fingers in Tweek’s hair, and the blonde laughed, his usual prone-to-squeakiness voice deeper with lust. He flicked his tongue teasingly at the head of Craig’s dick, causing the other to take a sharp intake of breath. He drug it down the underside until he was sucking on his balls, the more sucked and prodded the tighter Craig’s grip in his hair became. Tweek took advantage of his position and his view of Craig, who had his head thrown back against the pillow, swearing thickly under his breath, to finger himself one at a time.

“H-hey,” Craig stuttered, the show of overwhelment satisfying Tweek greatly. He had made the sarcastic and sharp Tucker falter; Tweek had effectively crashed his concrete exterior like a wrecking ball.

But he wasn’t close to being done.

He reached for the lube hidden somewhere in the blankets, popping the lid with only his thumb. Tweek slicked Craig’s dick up in quick motions, the turn of his wrist seemingly expert.

Craig’s rapid breathing was quickly developing into shallow gasps, and Tweek leaned forward, faces inches apart. “You ready?” he asked with a bit of mirth, leaning down to kiss him, to brush the hair out of his face gently.

“Hell yeah,” Craig said in a show of great bravery, like Tweek couldn't feel the slight shake of his body. 

“Just let me be in control, okay? Your dick is gonna be a lot to handle.” While Tweek was pretty sure Craig would try his best not to hurt him, Craig also seemed like he was already on the verge of blowing his load already. Reaching under himself, he positioned Craig’s dick and lowered himself only a little.

Tweek had certainly underestimated this, but Craig was being good, waiting for Tweek to make all the moves. He lowered his hips, both gasping a little. “Oh man, ‘shoulda fingered myself more,” Tweek breathed.

The head of Craig’s dick stretched the entrance of his asshole, and it burnt, but it didn't discourage him in the least bit. 

Tweek lowered an inch more, enjoying the look on Craig’s face as he did so. “How does it feel, baby?”

Craig nodded hazily. “More,” he begged with a squeeze of Tweek’s hips.

Tweek wanted nothing but to bottom out, but he hadn't exactly prepared for this, and besides, he was a firm believer the fun is always in the journey. “Mmm, do you think you deserve it?” he asked cheekily. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Please.”

“Ohh, say that again,” Tweek commanded with a wink, realizing through his cavalier act that he needed to relax his body.

“Please?” Craig’s voice had such innocent uncertainty in it that it caused Tweek to take his hand and bring it up to his lips.

Tired enough of waiting that he decided the next day's soreness would be worth it, he sunk himself as low as he could go, the both of them gasping in unison. They stayed there for a second, giving Tweek time to adjust, listening to Craig’s shuddering breathing, his fingers digging hard enough into his thighs to bruise the skin. Tweek closed his eyes and threw back his head as he started to move, using his knees to lift himself up just a bit and come back down.

Craig bucked his hips a little experimentally, and Tweek opened his eyes to see him staring back with concern. He grinned and leaned forward, hands on either side of his face. “Yeah, baby, do that. You feel amazing.”

Craig moved harder, and the two gained some sort of semblance of rhythm. The mattress creaked underneath with the force, and Craig grabbed him in the heat of the moment, pulling him tightly to his chest, and letting him have it, full force, unbarred.

“Oh yeah,” Tweek laughed breathlessly. “Like that.”

"I think I'm gonna come." It came out more like a groan than an actual sentence, and he messily kissed Tweek as he reached the edge.

Tweek whined, desperately trying to move his hips but Craig’s grasp on him was too tight. He managed to slip his hand underneath and pump himself clumsily.

Craig threw back his head and moaned Tweek’s name, frantically bucking.

“You’re doing so good, baby. Come for me?”

That’s all it took and Craig cried out, his dick pulsing inside of him. Tweek sat up, leaving Craig inside of him, and twisted his wrist with purpose until he came, too, all over Craig’s stomach. He rolled off of him, both of them gasping at the loss of contact as Craig was pulled out and his come dripped out of Tweek.

They laid next to each other, limbs feeling like noodles. “Holy shit, that was amazing,” Craig said in disbelief.

“Hell yeah it was.” Tweek laughed more softly than he had all night and cuddled closer to wedge his body between Craig's arm and torso.

Sleet started to fall again, hitting the windows in heavy tempo. Craig brushed his foot against Tweek’s cold one, and stared out the window.

For the first time in a long time he felt himself - like he wasn't masquerading through life behind a forced mask, playing out a scene of someone else's play.

Craig turned his head to look at Tweek, watching as the blonde’s eyelids grew heavy and fluttered closed. He sighed dreamily, sleepily, and laced his fingers with his under the comforter. There was still so much he wanted to say, to confess, but their silence was comfortable, and he wasn’t sure if Tweek had slipped into sleep yet.

As if he could hear his thoughts, Tweek met Craig’s gaze, snapping his marble eyes open wide. “What’s wrong?” he whispered in an exhale. He wiggled closer to Craig so that their bodies were flush against each other.

“Do you really forgive me for everything?” Craig asked, the sensation of putting the question out the unclogging the anxiousness that had gathered inside his chest.

Tweek closed his eyes, and when he opened them, Craig could see a glaze of the moon. He buried his face in Craig’s shoulder. “I forgive you. I really do.”

Craig could hear the silent ‘but’ hanging there, like a pendulum, or the swing of an axe.

“Fuck!” Tweek said a little too loudly, pulling away to stare hopelessly into the ceiling. “I don’t think you’re ready for this, Craig.”

“This?”

“Us.” Craig watched as he blinked rapidly to fight back the tears. “Are you going to tell your parents?”

Craig felt his stomach sink at the question. He turned on his own back to join his bedmate in studying the popcorn ceiling above them. “I don’t think I can.”

“I’m not going to hide in the shadows, Craig. I’m not going to be like, like, your secret boyfriend or something,” Tweek said. “How can i be sure you’re not going to fucking freak out like you did tonight and throw me over a couch again?”

There was more emotion to his voice then, the tone stinging.

Something within Craig cracked, and he sighed, shutting his own emotions dowm completely. He threw the covers off and got out of bed, hurriedly picking up his clothes scattered about the room.  “Cool,” he said dismissively, giving up on finding his other sock and slipping on his shoes.

“Cool? Cool? What the fuck does that even mean?” Tweek asked shrilly, sitting up in alarm.

Craig avoided looking at him. “I mean, you’re right.” He shrugged, making sure his keys and wallet were shoved in his pockets, trying to act like the unmistakable waiver wasn’t there in his voice.

“Craig-” Tweek reached out for him, but Craig turned his back on him, the action a little bit of triumph in this train wreck.

 “Bye,” he said curtly before closing the door behind him and descending the stairs to let himself out.

\-----------------------------------------------------

Craig sets down his mug, the coffee a little too stale for his taste. Tweek had drink it so much as a child, it's almost a forbidden substance in the house - but Craig keeps a tin of grocery store brand instant stuff in the back of the pantry, out of sight as to not offend anyone. 

He hears Tweek come down the stairs behind him, into the open kitchen. Craig only focuses on the paper in front of him, and suddenly he misses his father more than he can handle. His dad would know what to do. He’d give him some solid advice and send Craig on his way with a strong shake of the shoulder.

Tweek looks sheepishly over the counter. He’s nicely dressed, in a blue button up Craig has never seen before and slacks. Craig looks down at his jeans and V-neck regretfully. He didn’t know going to a marriage counselor was a dressy event.

He hears Tweek clear his throat, and he looks up from his paper, maybe with a touch more attitude than he meant to have.

 “Have you heard from your mom?” he asks. His voice is raspy from all the crying he’s done the last few days. It’s been cathartic crying, though, for once not full of sorrow or anger.

“Yeah, she said the twins are fine. A little worried, I guess, but okay.” He gets up and crosses the room. Taking Tweek’s hands in his own, he kisses him sweetly. “Are you ready to go?”

Tweek takes a shuddering breath, eyes trained on the floor before he looks up, heart breakingly earnest in the way they meet Craig's. “I think so.”

\---------------------------------------------

When Craig woke up in his own bed the next day, he noticed the way the sun shone through his blinds across his face, that odd smell of the heat turning on in his house, and the distant sound of a train passing through, loaded with pine trunks and coal. In the foggy confines of his brain, something troublesome nagged at him, poking him irritatingly at the side. Something was wrong, something was off, and it was determined to remind him before he could have the chance to bask in any sort of familiar warmth.

_Tweek doesn’t want to be with me._

He really couldn’t blame him. Any semblance to a relationship would be a sad affair. They’d have to act like strangers in public and settle for secret trysts in the dark. And while a lesser man might find something romantic in all that silliness, Craig wasn't fooled, and he was damn sure Tweek wouldn't be either. 

Sure his friends knew, and that was a huge relief in a way, but they were the only ones who could know without seriously fucking up Craig’s life. Tweek deserved a stronger, braver man than he.

 Craig got up, stretching his long arms above his head, regretting it when they dropped back down as if they were made of lead.

His eyes settled on the photos lined up on his desk, and he groaned. His plan to avoid Tweek at all costs were null and void if they wanted to participate in this art contest.

He picked one up from the shuffle, studying it despite the sharp stab to his heart. It was Tweek, eyes lost in watching the butterfly on his hand. “God damn it,” Craig said under his breath. “God damn it!” He went to rip the photo but stopped as it bent, laying it back down defeatedly.

“Craig!” his mother called from downstairs. “Church is in an hour!”

Craig sighed, tucking his feelings away for a more convenient time - if there would be one. He went through his Sunday morning routine numbly, right down to the last button on his ironed shirt. He zoned out through the service, standing and sitting with the congregation like a good Catholic boy, like it wasn't purely muscle memory at this point.

Much to his chagrin, it was on the way home he was shaken out of the comfort of his haze.

 “Son, are you okay?” Thomas asked from the front seat. Craig had been staring out the window at the passing familiarities, but his father's uncharacteristic question was enough to make him look up. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

He could feel Trish side eye him, and he glared at her warningly.

“You’ve just seemed distracted lately, sweetheart,” his mother said, the afternoon sun making her beautiful blonde hair shine.

“No, I’m fine,” Craig answered quietly with a careless shrug, drawing from pure teenage apathy. “Just tired.”

Laura pointedly glanced at Thomas, and Craig acted like he didn’t notice.

“If you say so,” his father said gruffly. “I hope you’re still focusing on the season.”

—————————----------------

Henrietta busted through the doors to the school parking lot like a mad woman. For all her doom-and-gloom aura, she lived for that moment of freedom from that concrete prison, and she unashamedly basked in the clear, amber sunlight of a chilly autumn afternoon.

Her eyes scanned the crowds of students - all excitedly chattering away about their pointless existences, a shallow cacophony that made her ears all but bleed. She finally found her friend, with his blonde hair under his favorite beanie and skateboard leaned up against his shin, backed up against the school's brick wall by a taller, darker boy with an aura so devastating the sunlight didn't seem to reach around them.

Henrietta watched as Damien reached for Tweek's hand, and he flinched away, saying something vicious through gritted teeth. 

Without a second thought, she started her war path towards them until something else distracted her in the distance. Craig Tucker stood around his Camaro with his meathead friends, intensely discussing something that had Token Black throwing up his hands in defeat. Craig glanced over at Tweek and Damien, and turned back to his friends sharply, crossing his arms. 

“Idiot,” Henrietta sighed to herself. With that, she bounded over to them, and whacked Damien firmly on the back of the head. “Hey, asshole, you bothering my friend?”

“I was just asking him when he wants me to pick him up for the dance,” Damien explained, voice like black oil that can never be washed off .

“I’m not going with you,” Tweek hissed, clenching his fists until his knuckles popped. 

Damien shrugged. “You’ll change your mind.”

He turned and skulked off, his shadow long and endless across the lawn.

Henrietta could hear Tweek let out the breath he was holding in. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, putting an arm around him.

Tweek blinked rapidly until tears rolled down his face. He shook his head, covering his face with his hands.

“Tweakers, Tweakers, it’ll be okay,” she soothed, rubbing his shoulder in small circles and making a mental note to consult some of her books on warding off demons. 

“I can't believe I fucking slept with him,” Tweek sobbed unabashedly. He was never one to be embarrassed by his emotions, but Henrietta still turned him away from facing the parking lot full of their classmates.

"You slept with Damien?!" she asked, horrified. 

"What? No! I slept with Craig," Tweek said, her assumption offending him even through his heartbreak. "Even though he won't even acknowledge me in public."

"Oh," Henrietta said, a little relieved. She wondered why she didn't see it coming. "Really? You finally slept with Tucker?"

" _Finally_?" Tweek repeated incredulously. "The asshole is ashamed to be seen talking to me."

Henrietta sighed. "I know you. You wouldn't have unless you have feelings for him."

Tweek covered his face, letting out a long, high whine that made Henrietta instantly regret her words. She put her arm back around him, letting Tweek bury his face in her shoulder and cry it out. "Listen, I know this is gonna sound weirdly optimistic coming from me - but dude, sometimes you just have to believe these things will work out."

Tweek pulled away and wiped his nose on his jean jacket sleeve, eyes swollen and red from what Henrietta expected wasn't his first cry of the day. "I guess you're right."

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Craig pushed his potatoes around on his plate, eager to be released from this shitty Norman Rockwell imitation.

His mother and father were talking about whatever stupid mess the town had managed to get itself in - almost always involving Stan Marsh’s dad, and Tricia was gossiping to Kenny’s sister, who now had a permanent place at their dinner table.

He was grateful for their distractions - he sectioned off his food to make it seem like he had touched it. Eyeing them all carefully, he plotted his escape. Usually he wouldn't give a fuck about being excused from the table, but his obviously weird mood lately would probably warrant someone to be sent after him. 

Craig exhaled, standing up and preparing to address the table in the most glib manner possible, only to be interrupted by three sharp rapts at the door.

“Oh, let me get that,” his mother said pleasantly. “It might be your brother coming to get you, Karen.”

Visitors during dinnertime were rare enough that those left at the table paused to wait and listen. Craig could hear a girl’s voice at the door, but it wasn’t the sing song soprano of Bebe’s - she hadn’t been around since the incident before the party. It was low and monotone, not that different than his own.

“Craig!” his mother called, obvious confusion in her tone. “It’s for you.”

He hesitantly made his way to the entryway, his mother giving him a concerned look as she passed him. He heard her mutter behind him to the rest of the household - “It’s a strange girl. One of those… gothic people.”

Craig was inexplicably greeted at the door by Henrietta Biggle, dressed in an ugly black dress and garish dark makeup. She had purpose in her stance that made him uncomfortable, and he raised an eyebrow. “Uh, can I help you?”

“Uh, yes you can,” she said, in a mocking imitation of him. “I’m here to talk about Tweek. I have a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Wicked Game" by Chris Isaak


	9. You know in the end, I'll always be there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I don't really have an excuse for why it took so long to update this time, except that I was just busy. I'm v sorry, and I hope everyone likes this new chapter <3
> 
> We're nearing the end :3 Thanks for reading ~~~
> 
> I feel like this song is so perfect for this. XxLevixX suggested it, and it worked so well ~~~~ 
> 
> I have a Tumblr - it's mediocrefanfics. Be my friend!

Craig peered over the chipped vinyl table, stained with rings from coffee cups and inexplicable burn marks, at the girl across from him. There wasn’t one thing about her that wasn’t… something… to look at. From the tangled mess of pitch black hair to the heavily lined wine purple lips to the spiked choker around her neck - she was incredibly different than anyone he had spent time with before.

She took a lazy drag from her cigarette and ashed it in the tray on the table. A waitress in a striped dress and an apron with tattooed eyebrows shuffled over and topped off her coffee with uncalled for attitude.

Craig was starting to get irritated at the weird anticipation that held in the air. Was she going to rip him a new one for indirectly breaking her best friend’s heart?

Someone played Lovefool in the background on the jukebox, and Craig felt it a weird choice in such a dingy diner filled with jaded truck drivers in worn hats and women with bags under their eyes.

Clearing her throat, Henrietta met Craig’s gaze - her brown eyes intense - before leaning in, clasping her hands together.

“I've always... tolerated you, Tucker. You've always been more honest than those idiot friends of yours.”

"Hey-"

Henrietta held up a finger to silence him. "It's not my style to get involved in bullshit like this, but Tweek's my best friend, and if I didn't think you'd be good for him, I wouldn't be here. You know he's in love with you, right?"

Craig rolled his eyes. “That’s bullshit.” He shuffled a cigarette out of his pack, sticking it in his mouth. He dug around his jacket unsuccessfully for a lighter until Henrietta reached over with her own and lit it for him. Craig seemed taken aback, and she took the chance to strike.

“Like, coming out is an incredibly personal thing, and I’m not going to make you feel shitty for not doing it. But unless you’re willing to admit to anyone and everyone you love Tweek just as much as he loves you, then leave him alone.” She tapped her black nail on the table for emphasis, her eyes fiery.

Craig only shrugged his shoulders flippantly, face set in neutral. He was good at acting like he didn’t give a fuck. _Maybe I should take some notes_ , Henrietta thought to herself.

“I don’t think it’ll be much of a problem to leave him alone. He wants nothing to do with me,” Craig said, flicking his cigarette over the glass ashtray.

Henrietta glared at him silently until it drew out an irritated ‘what’ from Craig. “I’m going to tell you right now how this is going to play out. Tweek is gonna crawl back to you over and over again, and you’re just gonna keep fucking him in secret until one of you breaks, and it’s not gonna end up great because in real life that Romeo and Juliet bullshit sucks ass.”

Henrietta thought Craig’s face had maybe grown a little pale, but it was hard to tell under the fluorescent lights of the diner. She watched him stare pensively into his coffee as a fly fell into it and died a bitter, caffeinated death.

“I don’t mean to hurt him,” Craig said, his voice brittle and frail like ice. “I’m a coward.”

Henrietta sighed. “You’re not a coward. This kind of shit can be scary. But are you sure your folks would freak out as much as you think they will?”

His mind drifted to memories of his father - a boisterous man who wasn’t unkind. A man who wasn’t his father by blood but by grace and circumstance. When Craig’s birth father had vanished leaving behind only a pile of empty beer bottles when he was five, Thomas Tucker had filled that space without skipping a beat.

He had bandaged knees and parted parables his father had taught him, raising Craig like his own child. Craig sighed, and without realizing it, he had rested his elbows on the table, propping his head up with them.

Sure his dad was a disciplinarian, but he was a loving, fair one.

Henrietta surprised him by putting a cold hand on his. “I’m not trying to tell you when and how to do this. But if you love Tweek and don’t want to hurt him, you’re going to have to make a decision. And if you decide he's worth it - I have an idea."

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Craig had gone home after that and slipped past his snoring father in front of the TV. The national anthem played its nightly routine before the screen fizzled out into blackness.

He didn’t bother to flip the lights on in his room; only taking his clothes off down to his boxers and climbing into bed, putting his mind in a comfortable 2nd gear.

The next day was spent in a blur as he went through the motions of his daily life. Breakfast, chemistry, locker, laugh at Jimmy’s - or was it Clyde’s - joke, locker, P.E… it all melded together, all the details of his day fuzzing out.

The only moment that stood out was when Tweek had shuffled up to Craig during their lunch period, and mumbled something about being done with his half of the art project before scampering off.

Craig had only watched him leave, turning back to disapproving stares from his friends.

“Du-dude, what the- what the - what just happened?” Jimmy asked.

Token put a hand on Craig’s shoulder. “You know, if things go to shit, you can stay with us, right?” He had told them the entire conversation with Henrietta in hushed tones that morning, and since then his friends had been urging him to take the plunge.

Clyde nodded in agreement. “I know dad wouldn’t care.”

“Not that,” Token said with a pause, “I think it’d go that far with your dad.”

“You don’t?” Craig asked, grimacing at the obvious tone of hope in his voice.

“No, dude, your parents love you. I’m not saying he won’t be weird about it, but he definitely won’t like… disown you or anything,” Clyde said, mouth full of mashed potatoes.

“I should tell Bebe, too,” Craig said suddenly, quietly to himself. He zoned back in to see his friends staring back at him, wide-eyed.

“Dude, are you really going to do this?” Token said, his grin wide and joyous. It tugged something in Craig’s heart to see his friends’ support.

Craig nodded, surprised to feel himself smiling. “Yeah, I think so.”

He started to get up and go dump his tray, but Clyde put his hand on his arm. “I have a confession, too,” he said with a nervous gulp.

Craig sat back down, eyebrows raised.

“But you have to promise not to be mad.”

“Just tell him, Clyde.”

“Okay, but first off, we never did anything while you were actually together, we just happened to be lab partners and hit it off, and damn it, Craig, I really like her. IsitokayifIaskBebetothedance?”

“...What?”

Clyde took a big, exaggerated breath. “... Is it okay if I ask Bebe to the dance?”

Craig closed his jaw as soon as it dropped open. “Really?” he asked, not sure if he could believe his own luck. He was so worried about breaking Bebe’s heart further, this news was comforting in a way.

Craig sighed, exhaling the exhaustion out with it. Actually caring about someone else’s feeling was draining. Clyde nodded his head slowly, unnerved by his silence.

Relieved and punch drunk with the nervous anticipation of telling his family, Craig started to giggle, rolling into laughs. “That’s great news, Clyde.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Craig was never one for theatrics. He preferred to shoot his shit straight, even when it was difficult, and this would be no exception.

He surveyed those at the table. His mother, his father, and his sister. Karen had stayed home to help her brothers with housework, and Craig thought it was probably for the best - no need to drag others into this.

He took a deep breath. This could be the last time his life was normal. Like a Band Aid, he thought, setting down his fork on the Fiesta Ware with a clatter.

“Mom, dad, Trish,” he started. They all looked up at attention. It was rare Craig talked during dinner, much less that he started the discussion. Much less that he had that much emotion in his voice.

Craig felt as if he might as well rip his own beating heart out and slam it on the table. He had no idea how to proceed, how to begin this confession - no, conversation.

“I’m gay.” The voice didn’t even sound his own as his statement bounced around the room.

No one responded, their eyes widening.

“And I’m in love with Tweek Tweak. You know, the guy from the coffee and music shop?” The words were pouring out of his throat now onto the floor, shattering like glass. “I’m sorry I lied the other day, dad. I was just scared, okay?”

Craig wasn’t aware when it had started, but he was shaking now. HIs mom slowly reached over and placed a thin hand on Craig’s arm. She opened her mouth to say something but no words came out.

Trish almost knocked her chair over as she jumped out of it, tears trailing mascara down her face, and threw her arms around Craig.

He watched blankly as Thomas stood up, his breaths beginning to hitch in panic.

“I need to take a walk,” his father said quietly.

“Thomas-” his mother started, but his father held up a hand.

Craig looked on helplessly as his dad nearly stumbled out of the room and flinched as the front door closed with a slam.

Eventually the solemn family moved to the living room, his mother whispering words of comfort. The sun set and someone flipped on a lamp, illuminating a room no longer familiar to Craig. Everything was bathed in a surreal light - it was as if Craig was plunged into some weird wonderland where he was no longer himself.

As time passed and he watched Tricia begin to doze off in the corner, he told them to go to bed. It would probably be the best if his talk with his dad were private anyway.

The clock on the mantle ticked on teasingly, torturously, and worst case scenarios flitted through his mind’s eye.

He thought of the things he could grab quickly in case he had to make a mad dash to Clyde’s house, and then immediately felt guilty.

Eventually the front door swung open and Craig’s heart thumped. His father stomped the early snow off of his boots onto the front mat and took off his coat with a close of the door.

He looked up, seeming not surprised to see Craig sitting there, waiting.

Silent, he walked over and sat next to him. He rubbed his giant hand over his beard, looking incredibly worn and tired.

“First off, I want you to know you’re my son and I love you… no matter what.”

Craig refused to look at him, only staring at the worn patch on their living room carpet.

“Look at me.”

Craig reluctantly obeyed. The twist in his stomach untied a little when he saw his dad’s face.

“I don’t understand it. And I want you to know life is going to just be that much more difficult for you. But… if this is what you really want, if you really love this Tweek kid, then...” He sighed, shaking his head.

“Dad…” For the first time that night, Craig felt himself begin to cry. It came in gasping, painful waves, and Craig remembered why he kept his emotions under lock and key so much.

“I just ask… I just ask you give me some time,” Thomas said quietly, with finality that slammed shut.

Craig nodded, watching as his father got up. He stopped before ascending the stairs, rubbing his eyes. “You’re still my boy, you know that?”

Relief soared within Craig and the foreboding waned just a little bit. He swallowed thickly and attempted a smile. “Yeah, dad. Thanks,” he said quietly.

Craig sat there on the couch - the same couch as his boyhood days but now felt so strange - and traced the dusty pastel flowers with his fingers until his eyes grew heavy and his head lolled to the side.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Craig gave himself one more cursory glance in his rear view mirror. It was unlike him to worry so much about his appearance, but he wanted every part of this plan to be perfect.

He climbed out of his Camaro into the frozen night and reached to his back seat to get his boombox - the thinner one his dad kept in the garage. He shuddered at the cold - it was starting to get that phase in the year where the whole world seemed crisper, every sound was clearer.

In the distance was Tweek’s tidy house, and with little trepidation, he flipped the latch to the fence gate. The finely trimmed hedges, the snow-covered fountain in the middle, the intricate trellis threaded with now-bare vines impressed him mildly - he had never been in someone’s personal garden that was this nice.

Most of the lights seemed to be off in the house, except for maybe a lamp in the kitchen.

Here goes nothing, he thought, pressing the play button and lifting the boombox way above his head.

_I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say_

  
_I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be_

  
_But if you wait around a while, I'll make you fall for me_

Craig watched the window above him, heart falling at the complete lack of life behind it. There was no peeking through curtains, no lifting of the pane.

He turned up the music and thrusted it up with even more fervor. He’d stand there until his arms fell off - he didn’t care at this point. All he cared about was seeing Tweek in the window.

With bated breath, he watched as the bedroom light was flipped on, and the window pushed up. He could barely make out Tweek’s face as far up as it was, but he watched as his form rubbed his eyes sweetly, sleepily.

_When your day is through_

  
_And so is your temper_

  
_You know what to do_

  
_I'm gonna always be there_

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Tweek asked flatly. With a startle, Craig watched as the back door opened, and Richard Tweak stood on the step, wrapped in a green terry robe.

“Go back to bed, dad. It’s just a stupid boy,” Tweek called from above.

His dad chuckled lightly.”Oh, to be young again,” he said, but there was a condescending edge to it that didn’t quite sit right. The look he gave Craig before he closed the door behind him was a bit unnerving, but he brushed it off. Like he gave a fuck about anyone but Tweek in this moment.

“This was a cheesy choice for a song, you know,” Tweek said, resting his elbow on the ledge and his head in his hand.

“It was... Henrietta's suggestion," Craig admitted. "But everything it says is how I feel!"

He couldn’t see the sassy look on Tweek’s face but he was sure it was there. "I had a feeling she was up to something."

“I told my dad,” he said, hoping it would be explanation enough. He hadn’t told Bebe but that’d come later. He was anxious to talk to Tweek, to confess his love.

“... Really?” The shock in his voice was unmistakable.

“Yeah, I did. I even told him I’m in love with you.”

Tweek’s backlit form was still and silent before leaning over the ledge. “Wait right there,” he said before closing the window and disappearing.

Only a few beats later, and the back porch lights flickered on and the door swung open.

Tweek stood there in basketball shorts and nothing else, not even a shiver. Craig almost flinched when he plunged his bare feet into the frosted grass and bounded over to him.

Before he had a chance to step back, his ass collided painfully with the solid ground, his world a blur of fuzzy blonde hair and marijuana smoke. Tweek’s arms and legs were wrapped around him, and he pulled away to stare into Craig’s face, eyes full of tears.

Then he swallowed hard and asked a question Craig didn’t expect. “Are you okay?”

Craig blinked rapidly. “Uh… yeah, I’m fine, I think.”

“But… your family…” Tweek pushed his hair out of his face, avoiding his eyes.

“They’re okay. My old man is a little shocked, I think, but… he’s okay.”

Tweek sat up off of Craig and sniffled.

“So…?”

“So what?”

“Are you coming to the dance with me?”

Tweek looked at him wide-eyed before arching an eyebrow. He raised his palm up and struck Craig in the chest hard enough to make a hollow thunking noise.

“Ow, what the fuck?”

“Don’t tease me like that,” Tweek said, standing up haphazardly. Despite his harsh words, he held out a hand to help Craig up.

“I’m not teasing,” Craig said flatly, fighting back an eyeroll. “I want to see you dressed up, I want to dance with you in front of everyone.”

Tweek buried his face in his hands and let out a shuddering breath. They stood there for a second, Craig completely unsure of what to do, how to react.

Tweek eventually looked up and threw his arms around Craig’s shoulders. It was the tremble in his arms that made Craig realize he wasn’t the only one scared.

"Give me some time to think."

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Where do you want to go from here?_

That's what the counselor had asked and all either one of them could do was look at each other blankly.

Tweek closed his eyes, the sunshine suddenly unbearably bright.

Some familiar melody played through Craig's speakers, an old relic from his teenage days he could no longer put a finger on.

_Do you ever have the strange sensation_

  
_When you're standing mighty tall_

  
_To jump from 17 floors and crash into freefall?_

He glanced over at Craig covertly. He didn't seem to have any real reaction in his face - the same passive, slight scowl he's always worn as long as Tweek has known him. Resting bitch face before it was ever even a thing. He still has that nice, sharp jaw line, age only greying him slightly enough to make him look like a real silver fox.

Tweek doesn't think time has treated him as well, but what does he know. He doesn't even know whether or not he wants to stay married to his husband.

Craig eventually reaches over and shuts the music off with random impatience. "What're you doing tomorrow night?" he asks, his voice huskier from years of inhaling cigarette smoke.

Tweek shrugs. "Nothing," he says, toying with a string on his shirt. "I'm skipping the committee meeting. Why?"

"I want to take you on a date."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Promise" When in Rome


	10. Strange you never knew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! I never meant to take this long of a hiatus, but I became very ill at one point (and it's far from over). I also got huge (great) news, so it's not been all bad! Thank you so much for sticking around, and updates will be much more frequent.
> 
> On that note, there'll be a couple of more chapters to this. 
> 
> (Thanks, XxLevixX for proofing it, and also still being my friend through this whole mess.)
> 
> I have a Tumblr!! It's mediocrefanfics. I answer questions, take requests, reblog stuff, tumble. I answer all questions, but I'm gonna start being active in other ways, too.

“Wow, you’re really keeping him on the hook, aren’t you?” Kenny said through mouthfuls of popcorn.

Someone in the front row shushed them, and Tweek instinctively pushed Kenny’s hand down as he reached up to throw kernels at the back of their heads. “Look, there’s Heather Graham’s tits,” he said, in effective distraction. “But yeah, I am. You gotta make them sweat some, ya know? He really hurt me.”

Kenny sighed, slumping in his seat. “Don’t toy with him.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t, but I don’t want you to ruin something good before you even have it.”

Tweek crossed his arms and trained his eyes on the screen.

“I’m not trying to be a dick, but isn’t the dance in like, a couple of days? You should probably give him an answer. It’s not like you’re… you’re agreeing to marry him or anything. Jesus, just be grateful.” The edge in Kenny’s voice made Tweek’s hackles raise, and he sat up in his seat.

“Who are you taking? Have you asked Butters? Probably not because then your ten other lovers would get jealous,” Tweek retorted, instantly ashamed at his apparent bitterness.

His heart dropped with Kenny’s face. “He’s taking Sally Turner.”

“Wait, why-” Tweek caught himself. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking -”

Kenny shook his head and put a hand on Tweek’s shoulder. “I don’t blame him. I’m just saying you should give Craig an answer soon.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

Tweek pushes the heavy doors open with hesitation, their creak echoing in the unusually empty rink.

It’s dim except for over the ice, and Tweek feels his heart beat faster than it has in years. Craig is at the edge, leaning over on his arms. He stands up and shoves his hands in his coat, looking so boyish again that it makes Tweek’s eyes water.

He’s so smitten with the form of his husband he almost misses the hazy music floating from the sound system.

_I want to hold the hand inside of you_

_I want to take a breath that’s true_

He walks up to the edge of the rink and doesn’t stop until he’s kissing Craig. He pulls away with a sigh. “You remembered.”

  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------

  
It was far too unnaturally cold outside for this point in autumn, even by South Park standards, so all the students watched passively as Wendy and her committee went into crisis mode, shoving an entire carnival inside the school.

The whole thing was incredibly overwhelming to Craig, who secretly harbored an intense fear of crowded places. He took a deep breath when he found the art contest section in the almost empty gym, but his nerves stirred again when he spotted Tweek in the middle.

In a panic, he ducked behind Butters’s strange amalgamation of melded propane tanks as if hiding from an enemy.

Craig watched Tweek bring a nail up to his mouth to chew, eyes shifting back and forth. Behind him were his photographs, and then what Craig could only describe as patch work of chalk sketches of bugs, in a thousand different colors. The contrast against Craig’s clear, black and white photos was striking, but it didn’t take away from his realism, his no non-sense angles.

“It’s almost a perfect metaphor.”

“Shit!” Craig spun around to see Henrietta. “Where’d the fuck did you come from?”

Henrietta ignored the question. “You know, you can walk over there. He like, knows you love him.”

Then, with an uncomfortable rush of happiness, Craig realized Tweek’s darting eyes were looking for him.

Not as much as saying a parting word to Henrietta, he crossed the gym, giving an awkward, half wave to Tweek.

His eyes widened, and for a second Craig was pretty sure he saw him blush, but Tweek turned around quickly to look at their entry. “So, what do you think?”

“I think it’s incredible. You’re really talented.”

Tweek shrugged, something like a smile forming across his face. He watched him swallow before turning to look at Craig, his eyes nervous and uncertain. “Hey, um, I know right now is probably not the time, but… I... “

Craig, enraptured by the words he wanted so badly for Tweek to say, almost didn’t hear Cartman behind him.

Years afterwards, they would still argue what he said to set Tweek off like that, but before Craig knew it, Tweek was a blur, leaping on Cartman with a yell.

\-------------------------------------------

“Well, at least you won,” Craig said, wrapping the ice pack the nurse had given them with a towel. He pressed it against Tweek’s eye that was throbbing enough to make his head spin a little.

But all that was nothing to him right now - Craig’s face was so close to his, he could kiss him so easily.

“God, my ass is done, isn’t it?” Tweek asked mournfully.

Craig’s fingers lingered on the side of his face. “They’ll probably just keep you from walking. If I were you, I’d be pretty fucking happy.”

He had a point - Tweek was not looking forward to the pomp and circumstance of graduation. “But what if they ban me from the dance?” he asked, worried enough to forget the implication.

“Why are you worried about that?” Craig asked, grinning slightly. “Were you planning on going?”

Tweek looked up at him before turning away. “Who said I wasn’t going? I just haven’t decided if I’m going with you.” He shrugged. “Maybe I’m going with Kenny.”

In his peripheral he could see Craig’s shoulders slump, his eyes looking downcast, before he straightened himself back up.

_I really am an asshole, aren’t I?_

“Hey, listen,” Tweek said with a sigh, reaching out to take Craig by the hand. “What’re you doing tonight?”

\------------------------------------------------

  
“Man, and did you see that kick? Holy shit -”

Craig and Tweek watched amusedly as Clyde and Kenny rehashed the Bronco’s latest game. Clyde talked with his hands wildly enough to almost knock Craig’s coffee over, and Kenny singed yet another hole in his sleeve, too worked up to notice his cigarette butt was close to the fabric until it was too late.

On the other side, Nicole shook her head at them, and Token threw an arm around her shoulders.

Besides them, and the cook, the Waffle House was empty. It was these times Craig felt like he was in another world.

“It’s too bad you guys didn’t win the contest,” Token said.

“Hey, we paid off our debt. Other than that, I don’t give a shit.” Craig waved his hand flippantly.

“Yeah, you two got off easy! Kenny and I had to do ten hours of community service.” Clyde held up his hands that were admittedly worse for wear. “Look at what the bleach did!”

“I was this close to drinking it,” Kenny said, earning a look from them all.

“Yeah, well, I might be doing some community service, too,” Tweek said. He traced a finger over his other hand’s busted knuckles. “It was worth it, though.”

“Yeah, holy shit, dude, I didn’t know you could hit like that,” Clyde said. “I can not describe the amount of satisfaction I got from seeing fucking Eric Cartman get decked like that.”

Tweek shrugged cooly, with a little half smile. His eyes met Craig’s, and they exchanged a thousand words through a look.

“Alright, boys and girls,” Kenny said, draining his coffee and setting the mug down. “Ready to go?”

With yawns and mumbles, the group shifted out of the seats, lining up to pay.

“I’m not dissing ‘Rear Window’ - I’m just saying ‘Rope’ deserves to be considered with the same recognition as a Hitchcock classic. Just because the plot isn’t as suspenseful -”

“It’s not that it’s not suspenseful. The plot lacks the depth of ‘Rear Window’. That’s the issue,” Tweek said emphatically, thumping Craig on the arm. Spending more time with each other, they had discovered film as a common interest - except it seemed like their taste in films clashed.

“Oh, you know exactly fucking why it isn’t revered as much as ‘Rear Window’,” Craig said as if Tweek had insulted his grandmother or something.

“You two are fucking nerds,” Token mumbled, walking past them on the way out.

Tweek watched as Craig paid the cook, who was doing double duty on that quiet Wednesday night. “I’ll catch you outside,” he said, brushing his hand against Tweek’s side and making him blush.

Tweek stepped up. The cook was a heavy set black man with a kind face and a very out of place chef hat on his head. The name tag pinned on his apron simply said “Chef”.

Tweek pulled some cash out of his worn wallet and handed it to him as he plugged away at the register.

“So you kids excited about the dance this weekend?” Chef asked. His voice was deep and smooth, and something about it made Tweek that much more willing to answer.

“Uh, yeah, we are. Do your kids go to the high school?”

Chef laughed and shook his head. “No, I don’t have any children - as far as I know. We gotta keep up with stuff around here. You kids flood this place after things like that.”

Tweek nodded. “I definitely could believe that.”

“So,” Chef said, handing Tweek his change, “you going with that tall guy that paid before you?”

Tweek felt his face flush, and he fought a silly grin. “I don’t know. He asked, but I… guess I’m nervous about making any sort of commitment.”

Chef hummed. “I might not know a whole lot about relationships like that, but one thing I know for sure - if you're not honest with him and yourself, you'll regret it.”

Tweek swallowed, the sudden honesty jarring coming from this man he just met. “You probably have a point,” he said quietly. He dropped the coins in the tip jar, making a pleasant thumping noise at the bottom, and thanked Chef with a smile.

Wrapping himself in his frayed jacket and bracing himself for the cold, he left the Waffle House. Around the corner of the brick building he could hear the group messing around, laughing and chatting where their cars were parked. He bounded towards that corner, eager to join his friends in the revelry, when someone grabbed his shoulder with an almost painful grip.

Spinning around, Tweek came face to face with eyes that seemed to glow like embers in the dark.

“Hello, Tweek.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Fade into You" Mazzy Star


	11. But he don't know what it means

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There be smut in the end.
> 
> (Thanks XxLevixX for helping me with the plots and edits ~)
> 
> I have a Tumblr! It's mediocrefanfics. I'm friendly - I take requests, answer questions, and chat. 我会说中文, 可是我的中文不好. 我想练习 哈哈

The street lamps’ light didn't quite reach the space between them.

Tweek instinctively stepped back, scowling, fingers wrapping around the pocket knife he kept inside of his coat. “What the fuck are you doing here, Damien? I told you to leave me alone."

Damien laughed, low and dangerous. “I see that you got Boy Wonder to ‘fess up, huh? Are you happy now? The neighborhood weirdo bagged the football star - turned him queer and everything. You know that's what they say, right?” Tweek shook his head, almost too furious at his mocking tone to speak.

“Don’t you dare talk about him.”

Damien reached over and brushed a stray hair behind Tweek’s ear.

Tweek went to pull the knife from his pocket, but before he could, Damien had wrapped his hand around his wrist. He squeezed it until Tweek thought the bones would break - that they'd be crushed under those spindly fingers.

“Let me go,” Tweek said through gritted teeth. “Or I swear to God -”

*****

Tweek sits in the chair, shifting every so often. Why would a therapist have such uncomfortable chairs? Wasn’t it supposed to be like in the movies, with plush couches and warm lamps?

He looks over to Craig, legs crossed, not even tapping a foot or fiddling with a loose thread like Tweek is. He wraps it so tight around his finger, it starts to throb.

_How does he do that?_ Tweek wonders to himself. _How does he always seem so impassively calm?_

“Richard? Richard?”

“Tweek!”

Tweek’s head snaps towards Craig. “Yo,” he says before realizing the counselor had been directly addressing him.

“We were talking about a certain incident when you were teenagers,” the counselor says patiently.

“Which one?” Tweek asks, very well knowing what incident they are talking about.

Craig clears his throat. “The one with Damien.”

*****

 Tweek watched the dark shapes pass by them, refusing to look anywhere but out the car window. He knew Craig was trying to get his attention as subtly as possible, but he couldn't bring himself to turn around.

_Damien pulled him towards him until their chests were pressed together, his mouth close to Tweek’s ear._

_“It wasn’t Firkle, by the way, who started the rumor. I ran into him and told him I saw the two of you in the park messing around. I knew the little shit would go around saying he saw it.”_

_Tweek gasped. “You fucking outed Craig!” He tried to pull away, but Damien held him by the side hard enough to bruise._

_‘Uh uh uh,” Damien chided. “I’ll find a way to split you two up… hell or high water. I’ll ruin his fucking life. Unless, of course, you come back to me.”_

Tweek’s eyes did meet Kenny’s for a second as he glanced in his rearview mirror.

“Are you okay? You’re being a little quiet,” Craig asked, finally finding the bravery to take Tweek’s hand.

Tweek jerked it away.

_“Fuck you,” he said, voice cracking. “Fuck off.”_

_Damien hummed in amusement. “You’ve always been a loose cannon. You’ll probably ruin his life before I even have the chance. You’re just some crazy, whacked out wannabe, and you’re going to bring him nothing but trouble.”_

Tweek looked up, grabbing Craig’s hand he had just swatted away. Maybe he was crazy. “We need to talk.”

*****

“Just tell me the truth. There’s someone else.” Tweek couldn’t tell if Craig was angry or sad or just confused, but the way his voice cracked made his stomach drop.

Tweek shook his head, wrapping his arms around himself. “Don’t make me say it.”

Craig only looked defeated, hands clenched at his side. “Who is he?”

Tweek turned away and sat on the staircase, burying his face in his hands.  “It’s Damien, Craig, my ex.”

*****

“What about it?” Tweek asks, trying to feign ignorance.

Craig only looks at him with _the_ look - the same one that gets the twins to do their homework. “When you broke up with me for him? Remember that?”

“Are you seriously still thinking about that? That was twenty fucking years ago, Craig,” Tweek says, aware his lashing out sounded immature, but too overwhelmed by the situation to care. “I picked you in the end, anyway.”

But seriously, did Craig really have to blame him for every little thing? Especially when he was the one who has been potentially unfaithful?

“You’ve kept it from me for that long. I deserve to know why I wasn’t good enough for you!”

Tweek sits back, eyes wide. “That you weren’t good enough for me? Is that what you really think?”

*****

Tweek laid on his bed, counting the glow in the dark stars over and over, until it felt like a broken record. His face throbbed with the pressure from crying.

_Are you happy, Damien? You won._

He woke up the next morning with something akin to a hangover, throwing himself out of the bed last minute. Managing to have enough effort to change into a new T-shirt from a pile on the floor and comb his fingers through his tangled hair, he made it on the bus last minute, out of breath and beyond irritated at the thought of having to face anyone that day.

He plunged himself into any distraction he could, but it wasn't enough. Eventually he gave up on trying to fake happy and resigned himself to hiding in the library.

The only time he dared to look at Craig was after the final bell, where he stared dejectedly back at him from the bed of Clyde’s truck. Whatever dreary connection they felt between them was shattered when Damien threw an arm around Tweek. Suddenly it felt like the temperature had dropped ten degrees, and Tweek watched Craig turn away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” Tweek warned, attempting to shimmy out of his hold.

“I’d watch my attitude if I were you,” Damien whispered fiercely in his ear. “So your place or mine?”

 *****

“I do love you, Tweek. Enough, at least, not to do that,” Damien said with a bit of mirth in his voice from the end of Tweek’s bed.

“Well, excuse me!” Tweek screeched, throwing his hands in the air. Then it hit him - if Damien wasn’t in it for sex, then what was he in it for? “What do you want from me?”

Damien was silent for a second before standing up. He walked up to Tweek, pulling him close. His eyes were glowing - or was it just the light? “Didn’t I say I love you?"

*****

Tweek stepped back, looking at his final product. Muffins upon cupcakes upon crullers sat in unorganized piles of wax paper on the coffee shop’s counter.

He looked down at his flour-covered hands. _What the fuck am I going to do with all of this?_

The sound of the bell chiming from the door distracted him from his therapeutic baking. He turned around to see Bebe, dressed in jeans so tight he wondered how she even got into them. There was a look in her face he wasn't sure he liked.

“Listen, if you’re here to yell at me, Craig and I broke up, so-”

“That’s, like, exactly why I’m here,” Bebe said, throwing her fancy leather purse on the barista counter. Tweek looked at her in confusion until she threw back her head and groaned. “Your new boyfriend is a fucking creep.”

“Well, yeah,” Tweek said, unamused. He turned around to start cleaning up all the whisked egg and sugar.

Bebe threw up her hands. “See! You don’t even flinch. Why-” she said, slamming her hands repeatedly on the table, her giant rings banging against the faux marble “- would you leave Craig for that asshole?”

“What’s it to you?” Tweek spat.

“Because Craig is a good guy, and he deserves to be happy!” Bebe yelled. “Because you’re my friends!”

Friends? It took Tweek by surprise so much he stepped back, landing his hand in some batter.

Bebe looked suddenly embarrassed, like she had revealed a grand secret. “Listen, I don’t have a lot of actual friends. I mean, Wendy and the others - I, I know what they say behind my back. I think a part of me always knew Craig was gay, but I just enjoyed spending time with him, you know?” She sighed. “Craig might have his issues, but at least he’s like, real.”

“Yeah,” Tweek said, rather speechless.

“He deserves to be happy, right? And you do, too,” she said. Tweek felt his chest tighten. Bebe’s eyes looked slightly watery, but she stood there across from him, tall and unmoving.

“I…” Tweek leaned back against the counter, no longer caring about getting flour all over his clothes. He loosened his jaw, his tension headache starting to get to him. With a deep sigh, he told Bebe the whole story, watching her become more and more worried.

She shook her head. “I’m so sorry I yelled at you.”

“Don’t be. I’m a coward. I always thought I wasn’t good enough for him and now I know it’s true.”

Bebe picked up her purse again, slinging it on her shoulder. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

Tweek turned around, feeling embarrassed at all of his sudden revelations.

“I know you don’t believe me, but he said the exact same thing to me earlier.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Bebe shook her head, turning to leave with a wave of a manicured hand.

“Wait!” Tweek called after her in a panic he couldn’t really place. He grabbed some muffins he had wrapped earlier and thrust them at her.

 *****

“And you’re sure he’s still coming?” Tweek asked nervously, pulling at the collar of his suit. “I didn’t know he and Henrietta were that close.”

“Yes, he’ll be here,” Kenny said for what felt to him like the thousandth time. “He’s been going to Henrietta for advice on all this, and they bonded. They’re both assholes, so it makes sense,” Kenny said, waving his hand. “She guilted him into coming with her. The details aren’t important. All you need to know is that he’s going to be here, and this is probably your last chance.”

Tweek glanced around the boys’ bathroom nervously. He had left Damien in the gym with a promise to be right back, but he had the unfortunate feeling that he’d appear out of nowhere again, dragging him forever away from Craig.

“And you talked to the DJ?”

“Yes, Tweek,” Kenny rolled his eyes at him. “Slipped him a $20 and everything.”

“Aw, Kenny, really? But -”

Kenny held up a finger and looked at his wristwatch underneath his sleeve, the worn band threatening to snap. ‘It’s about to be time.”

*****

He was standing in the corner, watching people dance with what looked like bored indifference. Craig had somehow taken the minimal effort, but still - the way his hair was slicked back, how his suit jacket hung open over his white shirt - he stood out among all the other stuffed suits in the room.

As Tweek walked towards him, heart pounding louder with every step, he could practically feel Damien's furious eyes on him. But he shook it off - Tweek had long accepted defying Damien was inevitable if he ever wanted to be truly happy again. 

"He-ey," Tweek said, voice cracking the word into two syllables. He cleared his throat. 

"I can't believe you're talking to me," Craig said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Won't _Damien_ be mad?" 

Tweek grasped for what to say next. An apology or some sort of explanation... but before he had come to his senses, he extended his hand. "Let's dance."

It was a gamble, he knew it, but if he didn't strike now, it would be too late. The current song was coming to an end, and Kenny told him that he had bribed the DJ into playing a slow dance song right after - one he thought was fitting enough to hit the right tone. 

There was a heavy pause, and alarms went off in Tweek's head to bail right then and there, but then Craig took his hand in his. 

_I want to hold the hand inside you_  
_I want to take the breath that's true_  
_I look to you and I see nothing_  
_I look to you to see the truth_

Craig took Tweek’s hand, putting his other on the small of his back. “... Who leads?”

Tweek grinned. “You’re taller, you lead.”

The drifted back and forth slowly, more in time with themselves than the music.

_You live your life, you go in shadows_  
_You'll come apart and you'll go black_  
_Some kind of night into your darkness_  
_Colors your eyes with what's not there_

“Damien won’t be mad at you?” Craig asked hesitantly, holding Tweek closer to him.

“Fuck Damien,” Tweek sighed, leaning his head on Craig’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry, Craig, but I want you - I don’t want to be with him. I’ll never be able to make this up to you, but-”

Craig shushed him. “Hey, it isn’t important now.”

“Are you sure?” Tweek asked hesitantly.

“Yeah.” Craig kissed the top of Tweek’s head. “Just give me more of those muffins.”

Tweek jerked away just a bit. “Wait, how-”

Craig laughed. “Bebe brought them to me. You’re a really good baker, you know that? You should do it professionally.”

Tweek laid his head back against Craig. “Bebe’s a good friend,” he laughed breathlessly. “But- what if-” he struggled to find the words “- there’s like, consequences being with me.”

“What do you mean?”

Tweek sighed. “Damien is gonna give you grief for this. You know that, right?”

“Fuck him,” Craig said, in echo.

They swayed back and forth for a little while, caught up in their own world. Eventually the music switched to something much more loud and bubblegum, and the spell was broken.

Craig kissed Tweek’s temple. “Want to get out of here?”

“Uh, hell yes,” Tweek said. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

During their great escape, they came by Henrietta and the rest of the goths outside behind the school, smoking and complaining about the stupidity of the entire evening.

"Oh my god," Henrietta said between drags, "Could this be more of a conformist shit show? I mean, really?" Peter grunted in agreement.

Before Craig could ask why she even asked him to the dance in the first place - to then disappear to smoke and bitch - Tweek whisked him off towards his Camaro.

He hopped on one of the curbs, doing a balancing act. Giddily, he spun around on one foot. “So where to now?”

Craig shrugged, his breath forming in puffs in front of him. “Beats me. Too cold to be outside.”

“Wanna go back to my place?”

Craig grinned. “Smooth.”

Tweek shoved him, almost losing his balance in the process. Craig grabbed him, throwing his arms around his waist, and swung him off the curb. Tweek yelped, blushing at the closeness at which Craig held him. “Sounds good.”

The ride to Tweek’s house was quiet. He spent it with his head on Craig’s shoulder, music playing lowly on the radio, some coffeehouse alternative station picked up from Denver. The ability to let himself breathe, to not have any expectations or requirements, in someone else’s presence was so great that their silence only served to make Tweek feel closer to Craig.

His reverie, however, was shattered when they pulled up, and his house was still lit up like a Christmas tree. “Aw, shit,” he muttered. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

“Why?” Craig asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Because,” Tweek sighed, annoyed and not willing to go into much detail,” my parents are obviously awake, and they’re gonna get all weird and -”

“You know, I haven’t officially met them yet.” Craig put the car in park despite Tweek’s disapproving look.

“You don’t need to.”

“Ouch.”

“That’s not what I meant. They’re just-” Tweek shrugged. “Listen, it’s not like they’ve ever hit me or anything, okay? They just-” Tweek turned to look out the window, tracing his finger against the frost. “This one time my dad held a gun to my head because he wanted to teach me a lesson about stranger danger.” His face burnt with what felt like shame, something that briefly registered as odd to him.

“Jesus Christ, Tweek.” Craig laced his fingers into his and squeezed his hand gently.

Tweek shrugged. “It was a long time ago. The point is, they’re fucking weird.”

Craig kissed his hand, pressing his cold lips to Tweek’s knuckles. “I’m gonna have to meet them someday.”

Tweek closed his eyes. “Fuck it,” he said, blindly releasing his seatbelt. It clanged against the door. “If you really want to.”

*****

The front door was unlocked, the voluminous burlap decoration gracing it knocking loudly as Tweek pushed it open. Tweek’s living room was nice - no worn carpets or faded furniture, Craig noticed. It smelled like a cinnamon rolls with a weird hint of vinegar.

Tweek’s parents sat on the leather couch, looking up slowly at the both of them. Really, Craig felt like Tweek favored his mother drastically more than his rather plain father.

Mrs. Tweek was obviously once quite beautiful, and when she looked at Craig with those giant, oceanic eyes, he realized an identical pair were looking at him, too, waiting anxiously for this to be over.

 “Well, isn’t this a surprise!” Richard said. “Welcome, Craig! Sit down, I’ll make some coffee.”

“It’s too late for coffee, dad,” Tweek groaned. “Craig and I are going to hang out upstairs.”

“Don’t be silly, Tweek. It’s high time we got to know him!” Mr. Tweak said.

Tweek mumbled something and twitched, much to Craig’s concern, but led him to an embroidered love seat anyway.

Mrs. Tweak smiled serenely at him, and Craig decided he liked her much more than her husband. “How’s your mother, Craig?” she asked, starting to move her hands rhythmically. He realized she had been knitting this entire time.

“Oh, uh, she’s doing well,” he said, nodding. “I didn’t realize you knew her.”

Mrs. Tweak smiled softly at him again. “We chat at the bank sometimes. She’s awful proud of you.”

Before Craig could think of a response, a hot mug was placed in his hands, and Richard Tweak sat back on the couch next to his wife.

“Speaking of which, graduation is real near now. Do you have any plans?”

“Here we go,” Craig heard Tweek whisper under his breath.

“Well, uh, I’ve applied to some schools with photojournalism programs, but it all depends on who’s willing to give me a football scholarship, really.”

“Oh, how wonderful! It’s good to have an idea of what direction you want to go. Nothing good comes from drifting through life with no direction like our Tweek here,” Richard said smoothly, like he hadn’t just insulted his son right in front of everyone.

“Ooookay!” Tweek stood up and clapped his hands. “We’re going upstairs now.”

Tweek pulled Craig by the hand up the steep staircase and into his room. It was dark except for a couple of lava lamps casting odd, multi-colored patterns on the wall.

Tweek didn't say anything as he  wrapped his arms around him and buried his face into the pillow as Craig absent-mindedly ran his fingers through his hair.

*****

“You thought you weren’t good enough?” Tweek asks in disbelief.

“What are you talking about? I’m still not good enough,” Craig says, looking confused as to why this wasn't obvious.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Instead of talking to you, I run off. I want so bad to talk to you - to be close to you - but I’m just so scared that you’ll tell me I’m not enough for you.” Craig looked like for a second he was going to cry, but instead turned away.

“Baby, you’ve always been enough. I’m not good enough for you,” Tweek says, leaning forward in earnestness towards him. “That’s why I broke up with you back then. Damien threatened to ruin your life - he told me I was just some crazy wash out that was going to bring you down.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. And I mean, I’m not. Why else would you.. You know,” Tweek drifts off, not sure how to approach the subject matter of his husband’s potential unfaithfulness.

“I’m not following, Tweek,” Craig says, looking at him in confusion.

“You - you- Have you been cheating on me?” Tweek asks as the air rushes out of the room.

* * *

“Ouch- damn it, Craig!” Tweek rubs the top of his head after painfully colliding with the bleachers just a second before.

Craig laughs, burying his face to muffle it in Tweek’s neck.

“This by the way is just about the worst idea ever. What if we get caught?” Tweek asks, poking Craig in the side. Craig responds by biting his neck.

He pulls away as Tweek gasps. “I told you - I rented this whole place out. There shouldn’t be anyone else here. Anyway, who cares.”

He grins up at him, wedged between two bleachers. “You’re cute,” he says as he wraps his arms around his husband’s neck, pulling him into a kiss.

Craig responds by kissing him deeper, and just as Tweek gets into it, he pulls away. “I would never cheat on you. You know that, right?”

“I do now,” Tweek says, feeling a little guilty.

  
“I deserve that. I guess I haven’t been the most attentive,” Craig says, hoisting Tweek’s body up. He pulls down Tweek’s turtleneck to expose his neck and bites only a little, but enough to make him swat at him playfully.

“You’re going to get us in trouble,” he warns, for a moment trying to be serious.

Craig just shrugs. “Isn’t that half the fun?”

Tweek eeks as Craig tugs at his jeans suddenly, popping the button. Craig looks up at him and grins devilishly before sliding his fingers into Tweek’s underwear and pulls that as well.

“We are totally not doing this,” he says, half breathless from the way Craig is stroking him and half breathless from the thrill of public sex. He digs his fingers in Craig’s hair despite his so-said reluctance.

“Buuuut, we are,” Craig says, and without skipping a beat, leans down to take Tweek’s -

“Wait, hold up,” Tweek says, pulling Craig’s head up by his hair, which only makes Craig mutter ‘fuck’. “We don’t have any lube, and if you think for a second I’m gonna let you-”

“God damn, you’re demanding,” Craig says, digging around in his coat pocket slung next to them. He pulls out the world’s tiniest bottle of lube.

“You totally planned this, didn’t you?! What about ‘skating rink’ made you think about having sex on the bleachers - holy shit,” Tweek says as Craig runs his tongue down the underside of his dick, and then the whole thing, making Tweek gasp.

He watches Craig’s head bob, as he sucks him off in that excruciatingly slow way of his. The way it slides in between his lips - Tweek’s head feels dizzy enough to make him lean it back down, barely registering the industrial criss cross of the ceiling’s bars above him.

He closes his eyes, and just as his back arches at the thought of blowing his load right down his throat, Craig pulls away.

Tweek growls and tackles him, awkwardly straddling him. Sex with clothes on is weird.

“Oh, now you’re all about it,” Craig teases.

“Hell yeah, I am,” Tweek says, kissing him fiercely enough that Craig bucks his hips.

“Are you gonna let me fuck you?” Craig whispers into Tweek’s ear, making his spine straighten as he moans. He squeezes his thigh, and when he feels the rough fabric of Tweek’s jeans he realizes something. “You’re going to have to take your pants off.”

Tweek shakes his head. “I am not getting naked in public.”

“What does it matter! I’m about to fuck you - okay, fine,” Craig says, his grin showing through his frustration. “Will you at least be willing to like, bend over the bleacher or something?”

Tweek smiles coyly. “Maybe,” he says, as he carefully removes himself from Craig’s lap. He leans across the bleacher, supporting himself on his elbows. He tries not to look too closely at the empty candy bar wrappers wedged underneath.

Craig pulls his jeans down, and Tweek instinctively makes a noise that’s something between a hiss and a moan. He likes the way his hands are so smooth as they rub up and down his thigh teasingly, appreciatively. They weren’t anything like Tweek’s hands, rough with burns from the kitchen for all those years.

“Just come on,” Tweek mutters, desperate for some sort of action, a combination of nervousness of getting caught and just outright horniness. It has been a depressingly long time since his husband has touched him like this.

  
“That’s what I plan on doing,” Craig says lowly, rubbing his thumb against Tweek’s hole, making him shudder. “How bad do you want it?”

“Um” - Tweek has never be great at this - “Really badly.”

Craig smacks his ass hard enough for the sound to reverberate off the walls of the empty rink. “You don’t sound like it,” he says, before slipping a finger in.

“Oh shit, yeah, I really want it,” he says as his husband presses himself against his back and nibbles his ear, which never fails to get him going. Tweek feels Craig’s hard cock brush up against him as he simultaneously feels his own brush against the bleacher, a feeling that registers as both weird and interesting.

He feels Craig raise up, his body missing his husband’s weight, and then the tell tale sound of the lube opening. “Oh my god, we’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, we are,” Craig says, panting a little at the feeling of stroking his cock with a lubed up hand. He leans back over Tweek and kisses him gently on the cheek. “You ready, baby?”

Tweek doesn’t have a chance to answer before he feels it right there - the sensation halting, alien enough to remind him just how long it’s been - and suddenly he’s being stretched. “Go slow,” he manages to rasp out as inch by inch the breath is pushed out of him.

“Bossy.” Craig reaches his hand around Tweek’s throat and squeezes it gently - not enough to hurt, but firm enough to get the message across. Tweek promptly responds by biting his hand as soon as he withdraws it. Craig laughs, pushing his cock in all the way without much hesitation, but is nice enough to keep still for a second.

Tweek moans, the sensation of being filled something he suddenly realizes he missed desperately. “Move,” he demands, irrationally worried that Craig will metaphorically disappear from his arms again.

Craig doesn’t respond but wraps his arms around Tweek lovingly before starting to thrust. “How’s that feel?” he asks, pushing the small of Tweek’s back down and pulling up his hips.

“Ah - god, so fucking good,” Tweek moans, throwing his head back when Craig changes angles. There’s something really hot in the way his body is being thrust over the bleacher, the way he can hear Craig’s breathless moans with his mouth so close to his ear, their bodies so impossibly close.

“Oh, baby, I’ve missed you so much. You feel great.” Craig grabs Tweek’s jaw and yanks his face towards him. He tries to kiss him, but their heavy pants only turn it into aimless mouthing.

It occurs to Tweek that he’s basically humping the bleacher, his dick sliding against the rough plastic rather uncomfortably but somehow a little addictive. Craig connects his hips to Tweek’s ass quicker and quicker, the sound of their fucking loud in the emptiness.

“Right there,” Tweek gasps. “Don’t stop.”

Craig raises up a little and pulls Tweek’s head back by his hair. “Are you gonna come?” he teases in his best effort in sounding sexy, but looking at his husband’s reddened face, lips parted a little - and then the way he slowly opens his big green eyes and looks at him like he’s the only other god damn soul in the world - push him close enough to the edge, making Tweek gasp with a high-pitched ‘oh my god’ as he comes in him unexpectantly, his body jerking.

Craig doesn’t pull out but manhandles Tweek enough to reach beneath him to stroke him a couple of times until he feels him spurt hot cum on his hand and the bleacher as he gasps Craig’s name.

They pull away, catching their breaths, lying on their backs and staring at those banners hanging from the ceiling with champions’ names or some bullshit.

“That was great,” Tweek admits with a breathless laugh.

Craig raises up on his elbow and tilts Tweek’s face to his. His face is suddenly so serious is causes Tweek to ask what’s wrong.

Craig swallows and kisses Tweek briefly on the lips. “I have a confession to make.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "In Bloom" - Nirvana
> 
> Though, to be completely honest, I like Sturgill Simpson's version way better.


	12. Twisting kaleidoscope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, there's one more bonus chapter! It'll be more of a short epilogue, but it'll come pretty soon - much sooner than I have been updating. 
> 
> Things get a little violent in this chapter, but when you fight the son of Satan, then what else are ya really supposed to do. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking around, and thanks to xXLeviXx for cheering me on and proofreading and brainstorming with me :^)
> 
> I have a Tumblr! It's mediocrefanfics. I take requests, and I really enjoy chatting, so feel free to reach out.

"How'd you even get involved with that asshole?" Craig winced with every step down the sidewalk. His ankle was in too bad of shape to safely drive, but he refused rides from Stan and Clyde. Bringing too much attention to it brought too many questions.

Tweek shrugged, twisting Craig's class ring around his finger, the silver catching the late sun. "He was the lonely new kid, I felt bad for him..."

Craig didn't say anything, watching kids play street hockey despite the cold. 

But  Tweek knew his real question. "Oh, how did I get _involved-involved_ with him?" Tweek sighed and buried his hands in his hoodie pocket. "I .. just remember even before we were a couple it was always like - _'Tweek, we're doing this today.' 'Tweek, don't hang out with Henrietta. I don't like her.'_ And then one day he kissed me, and it was like, like I had finally found someone like me."

Craig turned to him, halfway expecting him to be tearing up, but Tweek wasn't, only resolutely staring ahead.

"So," Tweek asked, clearing his throat. "Is Bebe mad?"

Craig shrugged. “I don’t know, man. Clyde seems pretty pleased with himself.”

_"Seriously, Craig?! You knew we were nominated, and you just left me there? **Alone?** " Bebe's voice was getting shrill as she leaned over the cafeteria table. "I was **humiliated.** "_

_Clyde took her arm and urged her to take the seat next to him. This seemed to bring her back to earth, and she sighed. "I'm sorry, I guess it worked out, right?" She smiled and kissed Clyde on the cheek._  

_Craig shrugged, taking a bite out of his sandwich. Bebe turned back toward him, fully back to her intensity._

_"That's all you're going to do?! **Shrug**?! I demand an apology, Craig Tucker! I don't know how Tweek stands you sometimes!"_

They stopped at the front of Craig’s house, and with a twinge of embarrassment he noticed the paint had started to chip away from the front door. “I know it’s not as nice as yours.”

“I'm sure it's a lot happier,” Tweek said. “And your dad knows about us?” he asked, trying his best to sound glib but jumping anyway when Craig took his hand.

“I think so.”

“You think so?”

“He will now,” Craig said, pulling Tweek up the stairs and through the front door.

Mrs. Tucker was folding laundry over the back of the couch but dropped the clothes in her hands when she saw them. A little wordless, she threw open her arms and wrapped them around Tweek.

Craig had never seen his mother hug anyone, and he wasn't sure she knew how by the way she smothered Tweek more than embraced him. “Tweeek, honey!” his mother said, voice unusually high. “It’s so good to see you!”

Tweek reached over to pat her on the back.

“Mom, don’t smother him. Is it cool if he stays for dinner?” Craig wrapped a brave arm around Tweek’s waist when his mother finally released him. Tweek looked at him and then back at Mrs. Tucker, surprised Craig was just now asking for permission.

“Of course!” Craig’s mother said exuberantly.

“Jesus, what’s gotten into you?” Tricia said, bounding down the steps, Karen in tow behind her. “Is this what you’ll be like when I bring boys home, because if so-”

“Whatever, anyway, we’re gonna go upstairs.” Craig pushed past his sister and Karen, and Tweek dutifully followed. His eyes lingered on the photos hanging from the stairwell walls in faded wooden frames. Tweek smiled at all the little Craig’s staring solemnly back at him, some with his middle finger raised.

“Keep your door open!” they heard Mrs. Tucker call from downstairs, but just as they crossed the threshold into Craig’s room he closed it. He grabbed the front of Tweek’s shirt and pulled him into a kiss.

It was searing and intense, but Tweek broke away. “You wanted to show me something?”

He wanted nothing more than to jump Craig’s bones then and there, but he was discipling himself - and their relationship. Besides, right there when his family was right downstairs was probably in bad taste.

Craig grinned - it was one of those things that were so rare it was so beautiful when it happened - and walked over to his desk. His photos were neatly organized in manila folders. But one sat on top of them all, slightly bent.

Craig held it out to Tweek proudly, and Tweek took it. It was him, eyes focused on a butterfly on his hand.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Craig asked, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his hair. “Hey, you’re okay with this, right?”

Tweek put down the photo carefully, despite the fact it was already damaged - he decided not to ask why it looked like someone had attempted to rip it up. He looked up at Craig, who returned his look uncertain. “I mean…” Tweek’s eyes followed the vacuum trails around Craig’s carpet. “Is he cool… with us?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

Fear stirred in the pit of Tweek’s stomach, but he appreciated Craig’s honesty. It seemed like this situation was turning into an endless loop of uncertainty, and the only way out was to face it head on. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“But listen,” Craig said, holding Tweek by the shoulders, “no matter what, I’m not going to deny I’m in love with you. No matter how hard it gets.”

********** 

 

 

 

 

It was silent. And not the usual Tucker brand of gruffiness and stoicism Craig was so used to - no, this silence was about to burst at any moment. 

Thomas put spoonfuls of mashed potatoes in his mouth, eyes trained on his sweating water glass. Craig’s mother cleared her throat. “So Tweek, I hear you and Craig did well at the art fair.”

Tweek put on his best air of respectability, that mask of impenetrable manners that seemed to be ingrained in rich kids no matter the state of their home life. “I think we did well, even though we didn’t win.” 

“Who won?” Tricia asked, attempting to put some wind into the sails of this conversation. 

“Butters and his stupid statue shit,” Craig answered, stabbing his potatoes with his fork. “Our stuff was a whole hell of a lot better.”

Thomas cleared his throat - a gravelled, strained sound - and everyone hushed, watching him carefully as he sat down his fork and took a drink of water. “‘So, you’re, um, some sort of artist, huh? So, what do you use - like, paint and stuff?”

“Yes, mostly, but I really like baking as well, which I consider an art form just as much as my painting,” Tweek answered, with a smile. 

Thomas coughed into his fist. “So, uh, you help your ma in the kitchen or did you learn by yourself?”

Tweek's demeanor didn't betray any nervousness, but underneath the table he was squeezing Craig's hand enough to be painful. 

The rest of the night was uneventful. They helped Craig's mom with the dishes and sat on the couch together - enough room between the two of them for Tricia to plop down with a mischievous giggle - until Tweek yawned, dangerously close to dozing off in the Tucker's warm living room.  

Craig escorted Tweek out the front door, and as soon it closed, they both took deep breaths. 

"Holy shit, I need a smoke," Tweek laughed. "That was nerve-wracking."

"But you did great," Craig said, bringing Tweek close to him.

 

**********

 

 

 

 

 “I’m not following,” Tweek says gently. Worries pull at him - whatever secret Craig is about to reveal is filling him with suspense.

“Well, so uh, you know how after prom, Damien started to leave you alone?” 

_“I don’t know why, but he won’t say a word to me,” Tweek said, wrapping his arms around his knees, digging his feet into the grass._

_Craig wasn’t sure how he wasn’t freezing but didn’t inquire. He only pulled his own jacket tighter, stomach souring at Tweek’s words. “Does that bother you?”_

_Tweek scoffed. “Hell no. I couldn’t be any happier. I just find it weird is all."_  

“Yes,” Tweek says slowly, eyebrow raised. “I’d really like to stop talking about Damien Thorne, if that’s okay. I haven’t even thought about the guy in like, two decades. I-”

Craig shushes him. “I have to get this off my chest, Tweek, okay?”

 

**********

 

Craig hung back against the bleachers, watching Tweek depart from Damien with Kenny, who glanced at back at Craig.

He clenched his fists, remembering his conversation with Bebe. Everything would need to fall perfectly in place for this to work out, but it was a risk Craig was willing to take.

Damien didn’t look all too pleased to watch Tweek leave, but Craig assumed he didn’t feel like making a scene, because he let him anyway. After Kenny and Tweek disappeared in the crowd, Damien - the slimy bastard - predictably retreated to the edges of the gym.

He slipped out the double doors, and Craig followed behind him. He stayed a few paces back until they both broke open into the chilly night, where, Craig guessed, he was going to smoke.

Instead Damien turned around. “Why are you following me?” he hissed, and Craig thought he saw a shimmer of red in the darkness.

“You don’t scare me,” is all Craig could think to say. 

“Oh, I don’t?” Damien sauntered toward him, playing with a lighter in between his fingers, flicking it on and off.

“No,” Craig said, ignoring the fear knotting itself in his stomach. Damien lurched forward, and out of instinct, Craig felt his fist connect with Damien’s face. He hit him, the sound of his fist against Damien’s jaw loud enough to echo through the empty parking lot.

Damien stumbled backwards, blood running from his lip. He snarled and jumped on Craig, whose back hit the brick wall hard enough to knock the air out of him.

“Son of a bitch!” Craig wheezed, kneeing him sharply enough to get him off, and then striking him.

The blow knocked Damien to the ground. Damien looked up at him, dazed for a second, and Craig took the advantage to pin him down with his foot squarely on his chest. “Stay away from me, and most of all-” he put his other foot underneath Damien’s chin “-stay away from Tweek.”

For one satisfying second, Craig thought he saw honest to god fear flash in Damien’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by petulance. "You'll never know him like I do," Damien growled.

Craig felt the undeniable urge to smash his teeth underneath his foot, but fought against it. Anything farther and Tweek would find out - and he couldn’t imagine he’d be very happy with him. Instead he let his foot off, and Damien stumbled back like the coward he really was.

"Why do you do this to him?" Craig asked, so quiet the words were in danger of getting lost in the sound of the wind in the trees. 

Damien's eyes widened, taken off guard by the question. 

"Why do you chase away his friends? Threaten him? Belittle him? When all he's ever been is nice to you." Craig put his foot back on Damien's chest, pressing him down to the ground. "Answer me."

"Because he's mine," Damien said lowly, the hate in his eyes almost palpable. "No one can love him like I do. And if I can't have him, then no one can." Before Craig could react, Damien wrapped his hand around Craig's left ankle and squeezed with inexplicable force. 

Craig cried out, the pain too intense for him to yank it out of his grip. "Let me go," he gasped, falling to his knees. He could visualize his ankle bones snapping underneath Damien's hold if it got any tighter, but then the pure adrenaline kicked in, and his brute anger with it. 

He gripped Damien by the hair, and brought it down hard against the pavement. "If I catch you-" he brought his head down again, "- anywhere near him ever again," - he slammed it down harder this time, and Damien gasped. "I will make you fucking regret ever being born."

"Fine," he growled, letting go of his ankle. Craig fought a whimper at the release. "You can have that fucking mess."

Craig forced himself to stand, an excruciating action, but he'd rather die than stay on the ground in front of Damien.

Damien got up, sneering, and brushed himself off. He took a few shaky steps backwards before turning and limping into the darkness.

 

**********

 

“You didn’t,” Tweek says. “I don’t believe you. Why- why would you keep that from me?”

Craig hugs his knees in a way Tweek hasn’t seen him do in a long time. He stares down at the rink, his eyes looking a thousand yards away. “I thought you’d think I’m like him.”

Tweek exhales. “Yeah, I probably would’ve,” he says. He takes Craig’s hand. “But I would’ve been an idiot.”

 

**********

 

“Glad you didn’t divorce,” Hunter says, stabbing at his hashbrowns, in a tone suggesting he’s only discussing the weather.

“You are your father’s child,” Tweek says, shaking his head.

Chase elbows him, causing him to drop his fork on the plate with a clatter.

“Hey,” he snaps, and elbows Hunter back twice as hard.

“We’re not going to divorce. That was never an option,” Craig says. He squeezes Tweek’s hand underneath the table.

The Waffle House is as empty as it was that night when Damien had cornered Tweek, and his kids’ squabbling is the only other noise besides the occasional sound of the cook cleaning dishes.

He sighs and leans his head back against the vinyl seat.

“Everything okay?” Craig asks lowly in his ear. Tweek turns his head towards him and smiles. The sun sets behind him, Craig’s dark hair glowing almost blue. 

“Oh, yeah,” he says as he fiddles with Craig’s class ring he had found serendipitously in a box full of their old high school stuff - underneath a bent photo of him holding a butterfly. “Everything is fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Personal Jesus" by Depeche Mode


End file.
